


The Long and Winding Road

by fionnabhair



Category: Veep (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:45:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 69,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fionnabhair/pseuds/fionnabhair
Summary: Post-season 4 AU.The tied election unfolds in a slightly different way - as does everything else.





	1. Chapter One

He’s on a plane to Nevada, and his list of ways Amy’s going to make it up to him is both extensive and detailed.

Sure, she’s likely to tell him to go fuck himself if he ever suggests the sexual favours he has (jokingly) (kind of) in mind, but frankly, he ought to get _something_ out of this trip, and while Amy might still be unable to cut the cord when it comes to Selina, he doesn’t find the prospect of winning the presidency for the woman who fired him _that_ enticing. 

He is going to present _someone_ with an itemised invoice, and in truth, he’s not sure if he’d prefer it to be Amy or Ben Cafferty and his “sacrifice the Wicker Dan” bullshit.

Point being, he expects this debt to be paid.

Not that he plans to raise it with Amy _just_ yet.She had drafted him into the recount team after all, when technically she didn’t have to (but only technically) (there’s no way she could run something this big, this complicated without him) (she might like to pretend she can run everything herself, but Dan knows better).

He’ll say this for Amy - she’s always been _very_ good for his ego, even if she never meant to be.The expression on her face alone, when he met her at the airport and saved her from Jonah and Richard, was enough to to wipe out the memory of Sidney Purcell’s firing (almost).No political operative has the right to have a smile that sweet.

Sure his life is unstable, and sure he doesn’t know what he’ll be flying back to in DC, but whatever - when he has Amy by his side, leaning into him to bitch about Jonah and O’Brien’s team and America and the whole world, it’s hard to get too worried about anything.

Greg had said he needed to make a name for himself - and Dan knows that there’s more than one way to skin a cat.

He says as much to Amy when they’re airborne - that if he can pull off a victory for Selina in Nevada, then he’ll have the kind of bona fides TV crews will get on their knees for.

“Please don’t say things like that,” she says, wrinkling her pretty nose at him. “I don’t know what it is, but when you talk about skinning things, something about your face makes it seem like you know from personal experience.”

“You know I’m right, Ames,” he says, “Once they put me on screen for any length of time, you know they won’t be able to get enough of me. Who could resist this face?”

“You do realise half of the men on tv look like mashed potato squeezed out of a tube?It’s not all about looks, Dan - unless you want to make it on Fox News which, to be honest, I can’t see you working it as a bottle blonde.”

“It’s got to be better than working for Selina at her most Cruella De Vil,” he says, “Maybe you’re eager to be used as her human shield all over again, but I want something -”

Amy laughs. “You’re still pissed off about being fired that time?”

“Amy,” he says, and he’s only mostly joking. “I will never forgive her for what she did to me.”

“Jesus Dan, it’s politics not the Sopranos.There are no clean hands.And besides, you of all people being pissed off by disloyalty...have you looked in a mirror lately?”

“Oh, I don’t deny I may have been a bit of a shit from time to time,” Amy snorts derisively, but he continues. “But I never plastered a woman’s face all over the networks for the entire world to scream at.”

“Only because that wasn’t an option,” she says, “Honestly, maybe you and Bill Erickson should set up a support group.You can cling onto your bitter resentments and console each other with the thought that at least you aren’t Gary.”

“You think she sent him to the vet one day and that’s why he’s like that?”

“We should ask Richard,” Amy says, looking deeply irritated, “he would at least know the signs.In the meantime we need to come up with some kind of plan to handle Bob the Folkiest Folk to ever Fork or whatever the fuck his name is, because she’s been clinging onto him like some kind of comfort blanket.”

“That’s Selina,” he says, “When in doubt find the nearest warm male body and hope for the best.”

Amy looks comically disgusted. “She’s not sleeping with him, she’s not depraved, Jesus Christ Dan, do you even know what adult women are attracted to?”

“I meant her blatant Daddy-issues,” he says, irritated. “Why do you think she always listened to Ben and not you, even when you were saying the exact same things?How does it feel to be Cassandra?” 

“It’s not like she ever listened to you either.Not when you were telling her something she didn’t want to hear.”

“I know that,” he says, “that’s why I’m coming up with a strategy to move on.”

“Oh yeah,” Amy says, “If Selina wins back the White House you’re definitely going to be kissing that opportunity goodbye, that sounds exactly like something you would do, walk away from actual power without a backward glance.”

“There’s more than one form of power.”

“Just like there’s more than one way to skin a cat?Dan, you can’t strategise your way out of a paper bag, you always need me for that.”

“Oh fuck you,” he says, “who got us both into lobbying?”

“And who kept us in lobbying?You were flailing around like a spaghetti limbed muppet there and you know it - you called me for help your second day in the job.”

“Right after you swan-dived out of Selina’s campaign and damn near tanked your entire career, need I remind you.You don’t have any more of a plan than I do.”

She rolls her eyes, and says, “I’m smart enough to know I never want to run a campaign for her again, which is more than I can say for you.Anyway, have you read Richard’s briefing document?We need to know the process before we work out a strategy, and he promised me that it is very well footnoted.In the MLA format.”

“Try not to kill him until after we’ve met the Secretary of State, all right,” he says, “We might need him to identify if any loopholes exist - like if O’Brien ever fucked a pig, maybe Nevada automatically disqualifies him from election.”

“I don’t think the good people of Nevada can afford to be that picky,” Amy says, handing him a thirty page document.“Richard doesn’t really understand the term brief, so...I brought us a highlighter.And obviously if you do hear any rumours regarding livestock, do your best to get them shared as widely as possible.”

It takes an hour or two for them to read the document and hammer out a likely approach for the next day, and then they have to suffer through the in-flight meal.Amy, maybe worn out by two days straight of relentless Selina demands, falls asleep shortly afterwards.

Well, kind of asleep. 

She lists sideways, her head slumping onto Dan’s shoulder, and that seems to be enough to jerk her awake, at least for a moment or two, before she sinks back into it.

He’s used to this.

Like many political operatives, Amy had developed the ability to sleep in strange locations and at odd times, grabbing a half hour where and when she could.She wasn’t particularly discerning either - Dan had seen her fall asleep on Mike a time or two, and even Kent. 

So having her use him as a human pillow isn’t exactly startling - and he can’t even think of it as a compliment - but it makes him...antsy, all the same.He’s aware of her, the silky-rough feeling of her hair against his shirt, the warmth that bleeds through almost to his skin, the rosy flush of her cheeks and the slight part of her lips.

There’s a reason he never lets women sleep over if he can avoid it.

But...

He doesn’t shrug her off - he doesn’t even crack any jokes about it when she finally wakes up. She’s been so tired - there’s no point in being a dick about it - he needs to take control and sort out their rental cars and corral Richard and Jonah before she sits down in the middle of the airport and fucking cries like a baby.

She’s never had the least fucking clue what her limits are - but he does.

It’s just good strategy, making sure she’s fed and watered and something resembling calm, and if she’s shit at taking care of herself, well he’ll have to do it for her. The last thing he needs is for her to accidentally eviscerate the Secretary of State or something.

Of course, Selina manages to undo most of his good work the next morning, calling Amy before dawn and getting her wound up and convinced that they need to have breakfast right fucking now, so they’re ready to tear O’Brien’s campaign team to shreds. He’s not sure how Amy eating her eggs an hour earlier in the morning will benefit Selina, but she’s so wired he doesn’t bother arguing with her, even if the way she’d blasted up his phone first thing had kind of pissed him off.

They’re on the go all day, from six a.m. until close to midnight, arguing with the vote counters about ballots, negotiating with Buddy Callaghan (which is much easier than it should be, for reasons Dan can guess), issuing statements to the press and dealing with Amy’s sister.

That’s his excuse, and he’s sticking to it.

Because just before midnight he manages to stumble into the biggest clusterfuck he’s experienced since...since the data breach, at least.

It’s really not his fault.

Or, well, it’s his fault in that almost everything that happens is the direct result of decisions he’d made, but it was just a misunderstanding. It could happen to anyone.

If he never sees Sophie Brookheimer again for the rest of his life, he’ll count himself lucky.

And as for Amy...

She was his favourite version of her all day, energised and lively and a goddamn firecracker, effortlessly taking over the recount operation and intimidating all the local activists, insulting Jonah and Richard like it was a sport and she was an Olympic level athlete, and always, at every moment, looking only to him, sharing her laughter and frustration and relief with just him.

Over lunch, she gets so het up about O’Brien’s staffer - some no-neck Texas quarterback who liked to pretend he wasn’t developing a gut from decades of beer drinking - that she damn near climbs into Dan’s lap.

Not that she realises this, of course.

He’d been teasing her - pretending the guy wasn’t so bad, not really - mostly to see just how much he could annoy her.

And it works.It works beautifully. Sparks are practically flying out of her eyes, and not just because they’re stuck eating in a Taco Bell.She’s so pissed off at him she completely forgets their entourage of Washington’s saddest staffers, leaning into him and listing all of O’Brien’s many flaws. 

She’s close enough that he can smell her - not just her perfume or shampoo, but her, the sweet, lightly musty scent that’s just Amy. He’s never really forgotten it.

So, he could hardly be blamed for wanting to go into her room - it’s not like there’s anyone else fuckable in Nevada.Being interrupted by her trashy sister only highlighted just how much fun they _could_ have been having.

And maybe Amy thought so too, maybe that’s why she planted herself beside him at the bar.Okay, not maybe - no woman would take that much care to inform him of her sleeping arrangements if she didn’t have sex in mind, and Dan’s not about to pretend he doesn’t know what she means.

Surprise sur-fucking-prise, normally the doe-eyed, "look how shy and adorable I am" thing doesn’t do anything for him - he’s interested in fucking _women_ , not some Bambi-faced disney princess type who blushes whenever he bats his eyes at her.

But when it’s Amy…

He can’t help himself, he’s rooting for her, hoping that just this once she’ll jump without a safety net, laying out enough bait that maybe, just maybe she’ll find it in herself to take a risk.

Of course, she doesn’t.

And he can’t honestly say he’s surprised.I

n her own way, Amy’s every bit as much of a tease as he is.(They’d celebrated after they’d testified to Congress - the second time - and by the time the bartender called last orders he’d been seconds away from grabbing her and _dragging_ her home with him.Not that he ever would, of course.But the way she’d been leaning into him, grinning at him, pressing her knee against his and pursing her lips when he said something she felt obligated to disapprove of…it made their constant game of sex-chicken even more frustrating than usual).

Most of the time… most of the time when he does something he knows will piss a woman off for a significant period, if not permanently… he doesn’t really think about it.He just does what needs to be done and laughs about it afterwards.

But…

It crosses his mind that if he sleeps with Sophie, Amy’s not going to give him that look again any time soon.

But CBS… even if he _didn’t_ need an escape hatch from Selina Meyer and her giant tsunami of bullshit (and he does) (he’s not going the way of Bill Erickson, no fucking way, and the longer he stays in her orbit the greater the odds of her fucking him over become) it would _still_ be tempting.

Even if Sophie Brookheimer isn’t, particularly.

But sex is sex, and as the great Ben Franklin said, all cats look alike in the dark (another thing Dan knows from personal experience), so it’s not like he’s in for a _bad_ night.

At least, he thinks.

If he wasn’t so fucking sentimental, everything would have been fine.

Right after ushering Sophie into his room, he turns back for a second - checking Amy hasn’t come to her door, checking she hasn’t heard (he tells himself) - and that’s when Amy steps into the corridor.

She starts when she sees him, but only for a second, and then…then she gives him the widest, _happiest_ smile he thinks he’s ever seen on her face.Seeing her like that…everything around him, inside him, feels brighter.

“Hi,” she says, and her voice is shy, “I was just getting some ice, in case you -”

“Oh, _hi_ Amy,” Sophie says from behind him.“We’re a little busy right now, so if you don’t mind fucking off while we bone?”

It’s like Amy staggers.

She doesn’t, of course, she’s not that melodramatic, but her…everything shifts in a second, the light going out of her eyes, her shoulders rounding in as she looks at him, something painful in the twist of her mouth.

“You wouldn’t.”  She must regret the words as soon as she says them, because she laughs, though it doesn’t sound like her laugh, not really.“Of course you would.Well, don’t let _me_ keep you.”

And then she strides off down the corridor.

He should go in and fuck Sophie, lock down the CBS gig and deal with Amy in the morning, but…

His stride is so much longer than hers it doesn’t take him long to catch up.

She’s pounding at the ice machine so hard it might as well be a punching bag.

He leans against the wall, looking down at her.

Part of him almost wants to leave it alone, because he just…something about seeing her round in on herself like this, it almost makes him queasy.

“You seem a little upset, sweetie.”

“I don’t give a fuck what I seem,” she says, scooping her ice up into a little paper cup.

“You know,” he says, summoning a grin, “I”m disappointed in you.Your sister works in CBS and you _never_ used it for the campaign -”

“Oh, of _course_ ,” she says, with something like a laugh.“Of course.Dan, so you’re clear before you fuck her, Sophie works for C _V_ S.So unless you really, really want to spend the next year wearing a blue vest instead of in the White House, the only thing you’re going to get out of this is maybe a nasty case of chlamydia.”

She walks away from him then, her hair swinging behind her…and that’s when he hears his text message alert - nine times in a row.

It’s the same word, over and over, with a question.

Nightcap?

“Oh, _I_ see,” he says, with that quality in his tone that makes Amy turn around.

When she sees the phone in his hand, she seems to shrink even further.

“This isn’t about me _fucking_ your sister.You’re pissed off because I’m not fucking _you_.”

Amy seems to struggle to control her face, because the contortions it goes through are anything but pretty.“Fuck _you_ , Dan,” she says and turns on her heel again.

But he can’t let it go, can’t let her off that easy, not now, when he knows he _has_ her.

“In case you didn’t notice, Ames, you _already_ got me back into the White House.What the fuck else do you think you can do for me?And I didn’t even _have_ to fuck you.”

But she doesn’t react, doesn’t even look at him, struggling with her keycard all over again. 

When he crowds into her, supposedly to help, but mostly just to be a _dick_ , she flinches.

“Only trying to help,” he says, in his smarmiest tone.

“Fuck _off_ ,” she says, something tight in her throat.

“Frustrating _isn’t_ it?”He’s inches away from her - can feel each breath as it leaves her body - can see how wide and dark her eyes are.“Somehow when you do it yourself, you just wind up all… _frustrated_.You need me to get it in _just_ right.”

“Are you finished?”

She’s not crying, not even close, but the way her voice catches…it’s like they’ve travelled back in time and he’s dumping her on some random DC street all over again.She sounds so _young_.

“It’s politics, Amy, there are no clean hands,” he says - and weirdly, he’d meant it to be comforting, but it doesn’t come out _sounding_ that way.

“Yeah, well,” Amy says, trying to sound fierce, “When you inevitably fuck up and need me to pull your career out of the shitter, don’t bother asking.”

“Come on, Ames,” he says, low and cajoling, “It’s not like I _wanted_ to fuck her.”

It doesn’t seem to make her feel any better though.

Plus, he’d forgotten all about Sophie, who was still lurking in his doorway - and not best pleased with what she’s hearing.

“You certainly agreed fast enough,” she says, (and if he ever thought Amy was shrill, he had _no_ idea, because jesus), “So you’re clear, little sis, he didn’t even fuckin’ hesitate.Though, I guess, if that’s your idea of ‘sexy’ pjs, it’s hard to blame him.Do you think having the name of your college written across your tits is a turn on? No one thinks about college degrees while getting down - though I suppose you do have to work with what you have.”She pauses for a second, and then grins at Dan, like they’re co-conspirators.“I really don’t know why you’re so into him.There are much, much better dicks out there - though I suppose _you_ wouldn’t know that - and I’m going to go find one, right now. _Goodnight_ , Dan.”

And then she’s gone.

Figuring he might as well, Dan grins at Amy and says, “So, you mentioned a nightcap?”

Amy sounds very, very tired as she says, “You are the most comprehensively fucked up person I’ve ever met, do you know that?If you want to get your dick wet, go find one of those legalised Nevada brothels Jonah won’t stop talking about.”

“You know for a fact I’ve never had to pay for it.”

“Dan,” she says, “Right now, I don’t even want to know you.”

“Oh, we both know that’s not true - at least, not in the biblical sense.”

“You’re actually fucking proud of this,” she says, “Congratulations, you win the No Prize of being even more despicable than Andrew Meyer, I didn’t even think that was - fuck.”

Her voice breaks and it takes him a moment to realise it’s because she’s crying, genuine sobs forcing their way out of her throat despite her obvious attempts to resist.By the time comprehension has dawned, Amy’s gone back into her room and slammed the door.

He goes back to the bar, in the hope of sleeping with someone so he doesn’t have to think about any of it, but through no fault of his own, he gets stuck with Richard, Jonah and the most idiotic argument imaginable about cowboy boots and whether they will make Jonah more attractive to human women. He wants to kill one or both of them, slowly, with a toothpick.

Everything feels upside down.

He’s not sure who he’s more pissed at - Sophie for being there, Amy for being so fucking _oversensitive_ , or himself for…for…

He’d been so ridiculously _close._

He’d expected Amy to be pissed off and bitchy and a real…pain in the ass to deal with the next day, but she doesn’t get in his face even once.

If anything it reminds him of…

Way back when, after he’d dumped her, he remembers seeing her, in the Capitol building.More specifically, he remembers her ducking into the ladies’ room to avoid him, like he was fucking toxic.

It had pissed him off then and it still pissed him off now - who the fuck did she think she was?She didn’t _get_ to ignore him.

They spend most of the day with Bob, prepping for the James Whitman meeting, and it’s…it’s a lot less fun than it should be.

Obviously, he’s already forgotten whatever _feelings_ he’d had the night before about the fuck-up with Sophie, but it’s not particularly fun to have Amy constantly remind him of it by being _weird_.

Maybe on some level, he should be relieved that she doesn’t want to talk about it, that just like him, she wants to forget the whole thing ever happened, but…but…

Ever since she came to lobby with him, he’s spent almost all of every day with Amy - and some nights too, when they were scrabbling together a plan to win over whichever client it was Sidney wanted them to seduce.

He knows her better than she thinks, and seeing her like this - not laser focused on the task at hand like it was more vital to her than the breath in her lungs, (the way she should be), but…deflated.

She’s clearly focusing on work to avoid dealing with him, and whatever, usually he’d allow it, but…

_Everyone_ needs Amy to be at the top of her game, and spending all day in kind of fog, half-starving herself in some weird form of self-punishment, being _nice_ to Richard… none of that represents anything good.

So, at the end of the day, he goes to the office she’s been hiding in, determined to drag her out if necessary.

She doesn’t look up when he calls her name, he supposes because that would require acknowledging him as a human being, but he’s not about to be driven off by a little thing like that.

He comes round to perch on the desk right in front of her, not caring that he’s invading her space, and says, “So, the choices are shitty Mexican, inferior Vietnamese or questionable Italian.Which do you want?”

“I have work to do.”

“Yeah, but you don’t though.In case you didn’t notice, Bob’s doing all of your work.So, let’s get drunk - Selina’s buying.”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere with you right now, not even if there was an electoral college victory at the end of it.”

“For fuck’s sake, Ames,” he says, unable to contain his frustration. “Why do you have to take everything so goddamn _seriously_?It’s only sex.And I know you’re embarrassed or whatever, but it’s not like you’re the only woman I’ve ever made cry - not even close - so, it’s I don't think less of you for it.Honestly, it’s kind of cute.”

Something in his tone must get to her, because she stands, clenching her phone in one fist, and trying to push past him.When he shifts so she can’t, she hangs her head and says, “You know the most fucked up part about all of this is…you think you’re being kind or something, you’re that kind of twisted that you think saying this shit will make me feel better, and every time you open your mouth you find a whole new way to make it worse.That shouldn’t even be _possible_.Leave me the fuck alone.”

She shoves past him - well he lets her, but he can’t resist having the last word.

“You know, this is why I’ll always be more successful than you.Because you just _care_ so much, don’t you?”

Amy doesn’t bother answering, just picks up her bag and walks away…and of course he follows her, because he’s not about to let it go.(He’s not sure why exactly, but there’s something so…tantalising about the thought that he could have spent the previous night in _her_ bed, that they could have woken up together, that he could have had her unravelled and lazy-limbed…he can’t let it go).

Only Amy’s walking so fast - or not looking where she’s going maybe - that she walks straight into Bob Bradley, who’s wandering around the office like the ghost of dementia yet to come.

She half apologises, and Bob’s holding on to her arms (holding himself up, or holding Amy close, Dan can’t tell), and then there’s a weird second where Bob says, “Jamie,” and tries to kiss her.

At least that’s what it looks like, though there’s no actual knowing.

Amy jumps away from him as if scalded, her back coming to rest against Dan’s chest.He can’t even see her face, and he can tell she’s freaked - and since Bob’s muttering at great length, listing names and places and who knows what else, it rapidly becomes clear…he doesn’t have the faintest idea where he is.

Dan puts his hand on her elbow, and steers her out of the building and into their rental car. 

“We have to call, Ben,” he says, once he’s driving (another weird thing about today - Amy usually insists on driving, and he lets her, because she actually likes it.And her road-rage is hilarious).

“And tell him…what?’

“That our chief negotiator is no longer in a monogamous relationship with reality?I think that’s the kind of thing he might want to hear.Not to mention the shitshow we’ll have to deal with if Bob Uncle-Bad-Touchs one of O’Brien’s team.”

“We can’t leave him wandering around there.”

“Well then call Richard, get him to pick him up - and then lock him in his hotel room and tell housekeeping not to go in without a bodyguard.”

Amy makes the calls - it takes a while, but they’re eventually able to get Ben on speakerphone.

He takes a while to come round - for some reason he keeps trying to laugh it off to Amy, trying to pretend that she’s just jealous or something - and the way she fumbles when trying to explain how fucking _weird_ it was, how off Bob’s behaviour was, doesn’t help - but they get there.

(It’s the name Jamie that does it, since Ben remembers an actual Jamie, and seems to take that as proof that they’re not bullshitting them).

They take the Whitman meeting the morning - but their energy, their vibe, whatever, is still off, because they get absolutely fucking no where.

The judges rule against them, and the state of Nevada is awarded to O’Brien, meaning the election is still tied.

They’re summoned back to D.C. for an emergency strategy meeting - Selina hoping they can find a way to convince Congress that since she won the popular vote, of course she’s who they should select as President.

He’s back in the White House and Amy is refusing to give him so much as the time of day.Plus ca fucking change.


	2. Chapter Two

Before she even gets back to D.C. Amy is summonsed for a breakfast meeting in the Residence. 

Dan isn’t.

He’s clearly pissed about it, bitching and moaning about how he should never have come with her to Nevada (she agrees with him there), he should have stayed in D.C. and whored himself out to one of the other lobbying firms (as though any of them would take him on without her there to supervise), how Selina’s presidency is doomed and they should never have tied themselves to a sinking ship.

He’s basically begging for her to argue back the same way she always does, but she has precisely no desire to engage with him beyond the absolute minimum, so she contents herself with mentally footnoting every bullshit comment he comes out with and abandoning him to sit with Jonah on the flight back. (This might also be why she’d accepted Buddy Calhoun’s dinner invitation on their last evening in Carson City - well that and the hope that, as a native, he might know a decent place to eat.He didn’t).

Every second she’s around Dan right now she feels likes he’s torn her skin off and all her most sensitive tissues are being exposed to the air, as though some dark and private nerve has been dragged out of its hidden place for dissection. 

Everything he says and everything he does just makes it worse.

He pendulums between acting like nothing happened, like they can just forget about the whole thing, and smirkingly reminding her that he knows the truth now, she can’t fool him any more, he knows what she really wants.

By the sixth time he’s brought the subject of nightcaps up in front of Jonah, she’s started thinking about just breaking a bottle over his head to make him shut up.

She won’t ever do that - of course - but she can feel something coiling in her gut, some toxic bubble of steam inflating, ever so slowly.She doesn’t want to know what will happen when she gives way to it. (She still hasn’t decided if blowing up at Selina is one of her best moments or one of her worst, but she’s pretty sure if she blows up at Dan it will be _worse_ , and she’s honestly not sure she wants to deal with that level of fallout).

When she arrives for their breakfast meeting, Selina sends Gary away, which gives her pause. There’s a full spread too, and Gary makes a point of telling her there are almond croissants before he leaves, obviously seeing it as some kind of gesture. Selina’s even made tea.

(She has an almond croissant and too many strawberries to count, since they’re right there).

She fills Selina in on the details of the O’Brien campaign team, listens to her talk about Charlie Baird (aside from being a lab-built example of the one percent, he certainly seems more tolerable than any other man Selina’s been involved with, though that isn’t saying much).

And yet, there’s something weird about it.She refuses to believe Selina brought her in for just a little girl talk.

“This is nice, right?” Selina says, towards the end, “Like when we were in the Senate?” 

Which is true. Snatching a Friday morning brunch or a late afternoon tea used to be their ‘thing.’Amy had started it chiefly, as a way of keeping Selina calm, giving her an opportunity to vent that wouldn’t lead to Gary’s cryface or an impulsive firing of someone on staff every month, but it had been...it had become more than that.Not a _lot_ more - Selina was neither able nor willing to switch off for longer than a few minutes a time - but they’d talked.About books Amy was reading, the latest gossip from the House, which Broadway musical was coming to D.C. (Selina always wanted it to be Mamma Mia), and even, on one memorable occasion, why Amy was in such a suspiciously good mood (of course Dan dumped her three weeks later, putting an end to _that_ , but she’d been...a little surprised, and almost touched, that Selina had cared enough to notice).

It had all kind of fallen away - ever since Hughes had announced he wasn’t going to run for re-election they’d been too busy, too stressed, too consumed with dealing with whatever crisis they were facing that day to take the time for...well, anything.

“It is, ma’am,” she says, choosing her words carefully (knowing the bitchfit that might result if she didn’t), “but I don’t understand - was there something you needed from me?”

“Buy half a clue, Ame,” Selina says, impatient as always. “Maybe it’s just a nice change to speak to someone who isn’t unbearable. Do you have any idea how much of a crush Ben had on Bob Bradley?He was so needy Catherine felt sorry for him.”

Amy laughs - she can’t help it - and Selina leans back in her chair, clearly feeling like she’s achieved something. 

“Without you and Tom and Charlie,” she says, “I would have made a run for Mexico weeks ago.”

“Right.”

“Don’t give me that ‘I think you’re a moron I’m just not saying so’ bullshit,” Selina says, frustrated, “Just tell me what the fuck your problem is, all right?I don’t want yet another melodrama, not right now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Tell me the fucking truth, if that’s not too much for you to handle.”

She sighs - because of course Selina would blame _her_ for not being open enough, of course it’s her fault -but, in a way, this represents progress, so all she says is, “It’s about Tom.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind about your precious male pattern baldness Ken doll,” Selina says, clipped.

“No, I haven’t,” Amy says, “At least, not in the way you mean. He was the best political choice at the time.”

“But?”

“But...he’s a submarine.He seemed like your most devoted fucking supporter right up until the first chance to snake the presidency out from under you.It’s not like anyone voted for _him_.”

“And two days later he walked into the Oval Office and served me up his balls with a side of parsley. He’s back in his rightful VP torture box.”

“Is he?Ma’am, how can we know that?You can’t trust him.”

“I’ve known Tom for a decade longer than I’ve known you,” Selina says, “If he was dirty, I would know about it.”

“But that’s my point, if he’s the way I think, you _wouldn’t_.”

“I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

Amy just manages to restrain the urge to roll her eyes.“Did you ever wonder how that story about Ray got out?”

“It took what, three google searches?Even Jonah’s bunions are capable of doing that much on their worst day.”

“I leaked it,” she says, and, for the first time in a long while, has the pleasure of seeing Selina looking genuinely startled.“I leaked it because Dan was ruining your campaign and he had to go, or you would never have even got within touching distance of the nomination, let alone winning the presidency in your own right.”

“You’re the reason Dan had a babbling meltdown?”Selina grimaces.“I should have seen that coming, now that I think about it - if anyone was going to reduce that fucker to incoherence it would be you.”

“Well it got a little out of hand.”

“A little!”Selina stares at her.“He wound up in the hospital.”

“Oh, it is not _my_ fault he Red-Bulled himself into a breakdown,” Amy says, “I was there - you have no idea how scary it is when Dan starts talking about his _feelings_.Anyway, my point is…he never saw it coming.And neither did you.Are you _so_ sure Tom isn’t a threat?We never even got the chance to vet him properly.”

Selina has an expression that would be wistful on another woman - one who had feelings and cared about other people more than power.“How’s Dan doing?”

“He’s the Mr Potatohead of shit,” Amy says.“No matter how you dress him up, what disguise you put him in, he’s still fundamentally a -”

“Yeah,” Selina says, “He’s always been able to hook his way right under your skin, hasn’t he?”

“I don’t know what you - I know _exactly_ who he is.”

“Yeah but you don’t,” Selina says.“ _I_ know exactly who Dan is, that’s why he’s never really pissed me off.But you…”

“We just work together, it’s not like -”

“Sure you do.You feel exactly the same way about him as you do about Mike and Kent and Cliff and whoever the fuck else you’ve worked with all this time.”Selina shifts forward in her seat.“Grow the fuck up, Amy, and stop trying to spin me.”

“This isn’t relevant to…anything.:

“Bullshit it isn’t relevant.You think you want to destroy Dan, and he’s just a pissant D.C. douche who can’t concentrate for more than ten minutes in a row - why do you think he keeps getting fired?” 

“But Dan’s your favourite.”Amy wants to slap herself as soon as she says it, for all that it’s true.“I mean, you two have that weird…thing.”

“He has his uses,” Selina says, with that fond smile she seems to reserve just for Dan (it doesn’t piss Amy off) (any more).“Now imagine that Dan was plotting to take away the one thing you worked your entire life for.Imagine what you’d do.”

There’s something terrifying about her expression - terrifying to another person at least.But all Amy says is, “You need leverage.”

“Now she gets it,” Selina says (ignoring that _Amy_ was the one who’d highlighted the risk of Tom James to begin with, naturally).“But, Ame, it has to be discreet.Not Gary going to every D.C. parent’s favourite location for child distraction, _actually_ discreet, because if it gets out that we’re doing oppo on our own VP… I’ll pay for it myself, we don’t need any more campaign finance bullshit.And you don’t talk to anyone else about this.”

“Understood.I’ll come to you as soon as I have something.”

“I always thought Tom was the last gentleman left in D.C. - he was the only Senator who managed to imitate a human when I was divorcing Andrew,” Selina’s mouth twists in an odd way.“I really hope you’re wrong.”

“Maybe Catherine’s documentary will catch O’Brien sucking off his campaign manager and all our problems will be solved.”

“Don’t talk to me about that fucking ‘doc’,” Selina says, “She points that camera at me one more time and I’m going to give her something to _really_ talk to her therapist about.”

She tries - she really tries - but she laughs again, despite herself.

“It’s funny now,” Selina says, “Just wait until she tries to pin you down for an interview - you’ll see.”

They talk a little more - mostly about whether it’s worth doing the CBS This Morning interview that’s been offered, whether it will soften her up in a useful way or not.(Mike had claimed credit for it, but Amy had doubts…he’d probably promised it to some junior producer while distracted by a buffet bar and found it impossible to weasel out of later).

That’s when Gary interrupts them with the news.

Selina’s mother is dying.

If she’d ever thought about it, Amy would have known better than to expect Selina to respond with genuine grief - her relationship with her mother was only mildly less twisted than her relationship with Andrew - but even to her jaded sensibilities, Selina’s obvious indifference comes as a shock.

The only good thing that comes of it is Dan being summoned to the hospital with Ben and Kent, to strategise about how best they can use the DNR to bolster Selina’s claim to the Presidency, as the winner of the popular vote and (with any luck) the object of the public’s sympathy. 

Amy gets to miss this gruesome affair due to her privately agreed extra-curricular activities.

In theory, this should have meant she didn’t have to see him or talk to him, since they were both busy with other things - a distinct advantage (there’s a part of her that thinks if Selina offered her the Ambassador-ship to Italy or something she’d leap at the chance right now, if it meant avoiding Dan).

But of course, being Dan, and therefore needy as fuck, he can’t go twenty minutes without texting her or calling her to whine about being stuck in the hospital.He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about her complete lack of interest in talking to him. 

She’d known hospitals made him jittery, of course, but even so...the minor meltdown she’s treated to glimpses of is startling to her.She’d fully intended to ignore him, but when he calls her to dial her into a conference with Kent and Ben he tricks her into staying on the line afterwards - she’d thought he wanted to talk about how to take advantage of O’Brien’s obnoxious tweet, but instead he wanted to ramble about Selina calling in a manicurist and Catherine’s ugly cry and…

“I’m sorry,” she says. “If you’re struggling to pretend to be a human person, find a priest.And put your phone on silent - fully silent - so it doesn’t ring while she’s trying to fake an emotion for Catherine and ruin the moment.”

She ignores the next six messages he sends her, busy working up an initial briefing document for the private investigator, with the basics of Tom’s background - tax returns, declared financial interests, a timeline of his personal life (insofar as Amy can reconstruct it).

She’d gotten the name of the PI from Karen - working on the assumption that Karen’s essential shiftiness meant she must have someone useful on staff at the law firm.The woman she gets, Emma, is…is exactly the opposite of every image Amy had ever had of a PI.She looks like someone’s Mom - right down to the comfortable shoes and the patronising smile.

She’s perfect.

It takes a few days - most of which Amy spends trying to woo the progressive caucus (apparently Selina didn’t trust her not to antagonise the man-baby section of the House, which almost feels like a compliment).It’s _ridiculous_ , because in what universe are they going to vote for O’Brien, they shouldn’t need to be seduced into voting responsibly, but it’s better than being saddled with Dan and Jonah, so she doesn’t complain.

She runs into him in the lobby of the O’Neill building one day and before she can make up an excuse to ignore him he pulls her to grab lunch at some pop-up food market.He doesn’t seem to notice that she isn’t saying much - in the exact same way he hasn’t noticed that she’s only been replying to his texts when he specifically asks a question about work.

She can’t tell if it’s because, in typical Dan fashion, he’s just _refusing_ to be ignored, whether she likes it or not, or that the fact they’ve spent the last year and a half living in each other’s pockets meant so little to him he doesn’t even realise things are different.

It hurts to look at him right now, so mostly she doesn’t, choosing to focus on Jonah or her phone or any other object in the room, rather than meet his eyes.

He doesn’t seem to notice that either.

But as long as he talks about work, as long as he lets every other subject drop, she thinks she can just about handle him.She can relax when she’s talking about work - it’s when the conversation strays into anything else, when Dan tries to gossip with her about whatever, when he suggests that they brainstorm over brunch or relax with shots before the funeral, that’s when she feels her shoulders tense up around her ears.

Not that he gives a shit.

Apparently funerals are also on the list of things Dan can’t handle like an adult.

He’s so jittery all the way through the funeral she’s tempted to ask if he did a line of something in the bathroom, though she can’t for the life of her work out why _this_ is the thing that gets to him.

She doesn’t have time to get into it though, because right before the funeral starts, Emma calls her with the background sketch on Tom (Amy had insisted on verbal updates only, at least for now), meaning she has to tell Selina. 

Her boss is already hopped up and pissed off and frustrated, between Catherine and Tim McGraw and the lawyer, and telling her that Emma has found evidence of pattern of…misconduct… It has a much greater impact than Amy had ever expected.

She whispers it in Selina’s ear, standing so close to her no one else could possibly hear, and when she pulls back, she sees the look in her eyes. 

“He thinks he can pull that shit and get in my way?I’m going to _destroy_ him,” is what Selina says, and Amy has no doubt that she means it… but she looks as though she just lost something precious, something special.

She looks worse than she did the last three times Andrew broke her heart into fifteen pieces, which is saying something.

If Amy had known, maybe she wouldn’t have said something right before Selina was due to give the eulogy. 

Or maybe she would have.Being able to convincingly express some degree of emotion about the death of a parent is the kind of thing the electorate expects from its leaders, after all.And Selina, being a goddamn professional (at least intermittently) is able, through some emotional alchemy, to turn her rage and disappointment into something that resembles grief (if you don’t look too closely).

It’s not a great run into Thanksgiving.

She’d hoped to use the political crisis as an excuse, to manufacture a reason to stay the fuck away from her family.Sophie has been pissed at her ever since Nevada, as though Dan’s assholery was in any way her fault. (Also, it made no sense - Sophie had found another asshole politico to sleep with.Going by her account, O’Brien’s campaign manager was more than game - and the massive hickeys Sophie has left on his neck seemed to prove it.If it were anyone else, Amy would judge them, but by Sophie’s standards sucking a republican dick didn’t even rate on the objectionable scale).

Unfortunately, when she suggests as much, suggests that she could staff Tom James for the day instead of Dan, Selina fixes her with a beady eye and tells her she’s seeing her family whether she likes it or not.

(Amy’s fairly confident that Selina has Emma’s brief in mind - among a great many other things, it had mentioned that Tom had a thing for blondes, having forced at least three of them to sign non-disclosure agreements).(She and Selina had read it one morning, before the CIA briefing.Whether it had anything to do with Selina’s newfound eagerness to launch a drone strike she couldn’t say - but she suspected).

Thanksgiving dinner is unbearable, of course.She’s honestly not sure which is worse, Sophie sniping at her about everything under the sun, her eldest niece holding her cellphone hostage, or her mother getting so caught up in asking nosy questions about Dan that she spills the gravy.

Two hours in and she’s giving serious consideration to telling Selina she can launch an air strike on her family. (Except her Dad). (Maybe).

She’s so relieved to get away from them it doesn’t even strike her how odd it is for someone to be pounding down the door on Thanksgiving until she sees Dan.

Because of course it’s Dan.

She is very, very tempted to shut the door in his face, and it’s only his twitchy, over-excited demeanour that stops her.

“Still not answering my calls, huh - how long are you planning to keep this up?”

“It’s Thanksgiving, I have better things to do than be badgered by you.”

“What, get pissed off with your family?You can do that every day of the week.”

“You’re not really giving me a reason to keep talking to you right now.”

Dan cocks his head and looks at her under his eyelashes.“But you don’t need a reason, do you, Ames?Not if it might lead to a nice little nightcap.”

She starts to close the door then, sick of looking at his smug face, and that’s when Dan moves closer, slapping his hand over the lock so she can’t slam it.“What’s the matter,” he says, “You don’t need to worry, I’m not here for your sister.”

She feels something twist in her throat, and she stumbles over it as she says, “Go fuck yourself.”

“Well that depends on whether I get a better offer, doesn’t it?”

She tries to close the door again, but he pushes back - and he’s stronger than her, so the door stays open, despite all her efforts.

It means he’s looming over her, staring down, when her father comes out.

“Are you all right sweetheart, you’ve been out here a long time?”

“I’m fine,” she says, “It’s just Dan.”

But there must be...something in her voice, or in her stance, because her Dad comes closer and says, his tone sharp, “Is there a reason Dan is doing…this?”

“I just need to talk to her,” Dan says, with that whiny tone he gets around authority figures.

“It doesn’t seem like she wants to talk to you though, does it?”

“Oh, Amy can’t enough of me.”Dan has the kind of grin that should get him arrested.“She knows what a big fan of all the Brookheimers I am.”

“Get the fuck off my property,” her Dad says, and he sounds genuinely enraged now. 

“But I need to -”

“I don’t give a fuck what you need.You’re upsetting my daughter, so leave before I make you.” 

Dan flicks a glance her way, and she almost feels more exposed than she did that horrible night in Nevada, like he’s looking at her properly for the first time. 

They both her Dad is making an empty threat - they both know Dan could knock him on his ass if he wanted to - and they both know that he won’t. 

“I’ll talk to him outside,” she says.“I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Are you sure honey?”

“It’s fine.”  


It’s chilly in her parents' front yard, and she folds her arms over her chest, bracing herself against the cold.“You can’t just show up here,” she says, not looking at him.“You can’t do that - I’m not your fucking… _maid_ or whatever, I’m not on-call for you.If there was some urgent fucking problem, Selina would have sent a helicopter or something, she wouldn’t ask you to invade my -”

“It’s important,” Dan says, “So spare me the theatrics.You _wanted_ me to come out here tonight, you just don’t know it yet.”

“Oh, because what, you’re going to give me the keys to the Fort fucking Knox of congressional delegations?”

“It’s about Tom James.”

Her stomach sinks, because now, despite her intense desire to be anywhere Dan isn’t, she’s going to have to talk to him.

“Meet me at the diner in an hour,” she says.“And don’t ever come here again.”

“I needed to talk to you.”

“It’s fucking creepy.”

“All right drama queen,” he says, turning back to his car.“Don’t be late.”

She’s so pissed off with him it goes straight to her stomach, something queasy settling there for the rest of the meal.She worries enough of it down to please her mother - though that’s not saying much - and threatens her niece with a loss of Christmas and birthday presents until her phone is returned to her.(Not that she actually goes out and _buys_ presents exactly - amazon wish lists are a godsend in that regard).

When she gets to the diner, she’s determined to get in and out in as short a time as possible.

Which is probably why it doesn’t work out like that.

Dan’s seated in a booth, right at the back - _their_ booth, the one they used to use for uninterrupted strategising whenever Selina was too unstable or Mike’s bottomless appetite had become a distraction.(They’d gone for dinner here, more than once, just the two of them, commiserating over crappy food and cheap beer, laughing over their rivals fuck-ups and bitching about Selina’s insanity.She’d liked it).

“So,” she says, “Talk.”

“Don’t you want to wait for your dessert?”When she rolls her eyes at him, Dan continues.“I know for a fact that you want a slice of pie, and I know you probably skipped out on it with your family, so…I ordered one.”

And sure enough, seconds later, the server sets down a thick wedge of apple pie in front of her, complete with whipped cream, ice cream, a sprinkling of what looks like cinnamon, and two forks.

It was an odd habit of Dan’s - whenever they went out for food, he always ‘shared’ her dessert with her, insisting on two forks, despite the fact that he had barely any sweet tooth. 

But she’s too tired and impatient with him to wonder about it, so she loads up a forkful and gestures to him to begin.

By the time he’s finished, she’s wishing the diner sold hard liquor.

“Well,” she says, “This is exactly what I did _not_ want to hear.”

“You think he’s up to something?”

“I think?I know he’s up to something.If I’d realised he was grade A, Invisible Man style shifty fucker, I wouldn’t have wanted him on the ticket.At least Danny Chung would have stabbed us in the front.”

“You would have killed Danny Chung,” Dan says, “By the fourth time he mentioned that fucking tank, I would have had to physically restrain you from feeding him his own tongue.”

“And that would have been a mistake.We’d all be better off if he couldn’t talk.”

Dan smiles at her and nudges her foot under the table…and for half a second she meets his eyes, and wants so badly to smile right back at him, to laugh with him, to enjoy that blood-deep understanding she’d never had with anyone else…but she can’t.

She looks away, and in the silence that follows, she can _feel_ the awkwardness building. 

_Fuck_ him for ruining this.

Naturally, their unnatural quietness isn’t broken by Dan apologising or…even saying something that isn’t dickish.No, it’s broken by him getting a text message.

“It’s from Mike,” he says, “He’s excited to tell me he has a surrogate to carry his intellectually subnormal spawn…and he thinks we should know that Sherman has died and…fuck me backwards.”

“What?”She kicks him.“ _Dan_ , what is it?”

He slides his phone across to her so she can read the message.

“Jonah’s running for the seat.”

For half a second she’s tempted - seriously tempted - to suggest going to the nearest bar and drinking, oh, all the tequila.She’s always trusted him to carry her home after all. 

But she can’t, not any more, can’t let herself get sucked into any stupid infantile fantasies of what Dan could be to her or she to him.She can’t make herself a fucking laughing stock, _again_ , she’s too smart for it.

So all she does is finish her pie, listen to him bitch for a while, and then leave.

There’s a part of her that wants to throw herself at him and beg him to carry her away from her fucking family and Selina and Jonah and Tom and everyone.(In her heart of her hearts, she knows she could have quite happily spent Thanksgiving just with him, eating Thai take out and making fun of Doyle’s appearances at the podium).

She’s grown so used to talking to him, all night and all day, knowing all the details of his thoughts and schedule and frustrations and minor triumphs, telling him every inappropriate thought she’s had since their last conversation…

It’s really hard to walk away from him.

But that’s why she knows it’s the right thing to do.

She’s not winding up fucking _crying_ over Dan Egan a third time, no fucking way.


	3. Chapter Three

Her first working day after Thanksgiving, Amy has a meeting with Emma, in some anonymous Starbucks right beside the Air and Space Museum.(Emma’s explanation for choosing this ghastly location - packed to the gills with tourists of the most obnoxious kind - is that no true DCer would ever willingly spend time there.She’s not wrong).

Emma has prepared a a brief for Amy to read - produced, Amy’s impressed to realise, with a typewriter.

“This way,” Emma says, “If the document _were_ to leak, you would know it didn’t come from me.This is the only copy.With everything in the news about the Chinese hacking so many systems, I didn’t think you wanted it sitting on a computer somewhere.”

“Right,” Amy says, thinking it’s best if she doesn’t comment on Chinese hacking capabilities - she’s not sure she can do it with a straight face, knowing what she knows.(Emma, she had discovered was, inexplicably, a huge fan of President Meyer’s.How a PI, working in DC, could be so profoundly lacking in cynicism Amy didn’t know, but she wasn’t about to disabuse her, not when her hero-worship was helpful).

Emma goes for a quick walk around the Mall while Amy reads, makes notes, and considers what to do next.The contents of the brief are tough reading…even to Amy’s jaded sensibilities.There are five women in total, all of whom met Tom when they first worked on the Hill, as interns, or junior staffers, most of whom had worked for him (though not all). 

Something crinkles across her scalp as she reads… he had a fucking _ritual_.

He’d befriend them - be charming in the way that he could - support their career aspirations - offer them help and advice - take them in to the Senate-only cafeterias as guests for lunch and dinner - invite them to drinks at the Four Seasons or the Klimpton - and then it would start.

One woman describes being assaulted in his private bathroom moments before a confirmation hearing - another being forced to…service him one dull weekend back in Maine - another waking up in a hotel bedroom, so badly bruised walking was painful…

There’ll be more.

If there’s one thing Amy knows, it’s that if there are five women out there who are willing to _say_ what happened, there’ll be dozens more who aren’t.Not yet.

Tom had noticed her when she was an intern. 

Tom had taken her for lunch and told her she was brilliant and congratulated her when Selina had hired her on a permanent basis.

She’d thought of him as a weird…kind of mentor, one of the only politicians she’d ever met who knew how to present himself while still being effective behind the scenes.There was a reason she’d had such a high opinion of him.

Tom had invited her for drinks at the Klimpton.

She hadn’t gone. 

She’d been… it had been in that weird, interstitial phase, when she wasn’t _dating_ Dan, but they’d been…circling each other.Or, perhaps more accurately, he’d been following her around D.C. like a terrier, wanting to get something political, plus an orgasm or two, out of her.

Anyway, she’d had an invite to a party with some of the more tolerable White House staffers, she’d thought he’d be there, and so she told Tom that she couldn’t come that evening.

After everything with Dan was over, she’d looked back on that evening and kicked herself for prioritising a boyfriend (a possible boyfriend) over a potentially useful career contact (she’d known even then that Tom would go far).She’d sworn never to make that mistake again.

Sitting in the Starbucks, surrounded by mothers and their children, elderly couples complaining about their sore feet, and college students trying to caffeine away their hangovers… she feels unstable.Her hands aren’t shaking, but they _should_ be.

It’s the same feeling she gets when she has a near miss while driving, or that one time she took a pregnancy test and it came back negative… a there but for the grace of god kind of thing. 

Washington was full of predators, everyone knew that, people joked about it all the time, but to read it in black and while, to realise just how close she had come to… _being_ one of those fucking jokes.

She wants _Dan._

She wants to call him and listen to him bitch about running out of his skin serum and Jonah’s campaign ads and why she hadn’t met him for an early morning coffee and strategy-session.She wants him to ramble on in that perfectly self-absorbed fashion and reassure her that her life is _her_ life, that through sheer dumb luck she’d managed to steer away from the monster and build something where his…himness is the worst thing she has to deal with.

But even if she _could_ call him, it’s not like she could tell him about Tom.Selina (who’s waiting on an update) had entrusted her with this in the strictest of confidence, and while there had been a brief period where in the strictest of confidence had one large Dan-shaped exception in it… if the Nevada debacle had taught her anything, it’s that she couldn’t _ever_ trust him.

Besides, at least this way, she got to lord it over him that she was having _private_ meetings with the President, whereas he…was back, but not even close to being in the inner circle.

When Emma returns, they talk about next steps.

She hasn’t identified any of the women, yet - because most of them aren’t willing to put their names out there, not without knowing where the information is going, who’s attempting to make use of them, and, wisely, Emma hadn’t brought Selina’s name into it, relying on her innate motherliness to do the work for her.

But she thinks at least two of them will be willing to go on the record.(She used only initials in the brief, but Amy is reasonably confident that she knows who MY is, if not the others).

Amy tells her she’ll be in touch, and makes her way back to the White House, where she arrives into...chaos.

Or, not quite chaos, but something closer to it than she’s comfortable with.

From what she can gather, waiting outside the Oval Office for her one to one with Selina, a banking crisis is imminent, Selina’s on the war path about politico’s latest story, and Ben despatched Candi Caruso to manage Jonah’s campaign and was extremely grumpy about it.

She gets nine minutes with Selina.

Since her boss never has the time (or inclination) to read anything, Amy has written her a short, bullet-pointed summary on index cards. None of it is precisely useful, at least not yet, but Selina gives her the go ahead to see if she can get any of the women on the record. 

She’s...distracted, to say the least, worrying about the banking crisis.

“Tom says we have to save Charlie’s bank or the 1929 crash will seem like a mild migraine, Kent says if do the redneck horde will descend with pitchforks and their states will go off the reservation, I’ve only got another thirty hours to make a decision, and it feels like whatever I do, I’ll fuck my chances of keeping this office.”

Amy cocks her head.“Why does it have to be _your_ decision?”

“Because I’m the fucking President, Amy,” Selina says, in the tone she usually reserves for voters.“That’s the job.”

“No,” Amy says, “It’s your job to make sure the decision is made.It doesn’t have to be you.If everyone’s so sure it’s a goddamn septic tank, throw Tom in it, it’s what he’s for.Why make him economy tsar if not to make sure he’s the one who gets tarred and feathered?”

Selina stands up, walking about the room, seemingly deep in thought.“How exactly would you propose that we do this?”

“Announce that you’re locking Tom, Ben and the Governors of the Fed in a smoke-filled room somewhere, they’ll make the choice and you’ll abide by it.”

“As if anyone would believe for a second that I hadn’t influenced the decision.”

“So we find…the most obnoxious journalist who isn’t, you know, terminally irresponsible - one of the ones who gets off on their role informing the American people - and put them in the room.And then, you know, fuck off to Camp David with Charlie for the weekend, take two whole spa days to prepare for the Congressional Ball… go give a speech to some needy women’s group or…anything that has nothing to do with that room.”

“It won’t get Fox News off my back.”

“Yeah, but nothing ever will, so who gives a fuck?”

“What if they get it into their heads not to fund the Illinois bank - we need those votes, Ame, we can’t just -”

“Ben won’t let that happen.”

“So, when we say I’m not interfering -”

“We’re saying our Chief of Staff is so efficient, we don’t _need_ to interfere.Ben doesn’t need to be told what the political considerations are.”

Selina chews on her lower lip for a second.“Get some language - and a list of names for a puppet journalist.No one whose strings are too obvious.Come back to me by four, and if I like it Mike can fling it to out to the press room.”She raises her voice.“Sue!Get Dan in here, I have a job for him.”

The job, it turns out, is to find out who called Selina a cunt in the hearing of a journalist.Amy finds out, because he stops by her office to whine about it. 

Well, whine about it, and issue thinly veiled threats that he’ll mention her name and their conversation in the Senate building. 

“Oh please,” she says, “I’ll tell her, and it will be true, that I was baited, by you, and she’ll believe me, because let’s face it most of my bad decisions involve you somehow.”  


“Yeah, they do,” Dan says, grinning in a way she finds personally offensive.

“The President has entrusted you with a serious task,” she says, trying to keep a straight face.“Though of course you can go back to being unemployed, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“Don’t worry, Ames,” he says, and winks.“I won’t let her fire you, even if she does go full Nixon.”

“Thank you,” she says, and it comes out sounding more sincere than she intended. 

It’s the nicest she’s been to him in weeks, and clearly Dan notices, because he raises an eyebrow and says, “Not that I don’t appreciate your gratitude, but…”

“It’s just -”She cuts herself off for a moment, looking past him.“You could be so much worse.”

“Challenge accepted, baby.”

“I meant, you could assault every intern in this building if you wanted to, they couldn’t stop you, they probably wouldn’t feel like they could tell anyone, and let’s face it there are a lot of men who get off on feeling like they can coerce women into all kinds of shit, but… you don’t.And I just -”

“You’re giving me credit for not raping when I could?”Dan narrows his eyes, looking at her properly.“Has Leon West been stalking you around the 7/11 again?You know you can call -”

“Are you going to say you?”

“Or the cops.Or, you know, random dipshits passing by.It’s never going to be that hard to find someone to save a pretty blonde from a passing creep, not even in Georgetown.”

“That’s true,” she says, smiling at the memory.“They certainly stepped in with you.Anyway - I just… forget it, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Did something happen?” 

His tone is almost sincere - but she never intended to have this conversation in the first place, so she’s definitely not getting drawn into talking more.“Why didn’t you take the Jonah job?  


Dan leans back in his seat, seeming almost…irritated with her for changing the subject.“Please,” he says, “You think I want my name attached to that shitshow?”

“Someday,” she says, “You and I should play chess for money.”

“Never seen the Thomas Crown affair?There are more enjoyable things we can do with a chess set.”

She stares at him for a second, baffled, and then says, “I don’t…know what that means, but…I’ll win.You’ve got to be the easiest person in the world to checkmate - you can’t think more than two steps in advance.”

“What I have in mind doesn’t need that many steps, I know it’s been a while -”

“My point is - it’s a win.If he loses, which if the world was a just place he would, no one would blame you, and if he wins, you’re a political Einstein.”

Dan opens his mouth to retort, but stops himself when the meaning of what she said sinks in.“Well,” he says, “Aren’t you a useful person to have around after the horse has bolted?”

“It’s not my fault your judgement when it comes to career-decisions is basically non-existent.Maybe if you’d called me, you would have made the right decision, but -”

“Your need to extend your control freakery to even my dick is pretty fucking transparent, Amy, even for you.”

She can’t think of what to say, at least not immediately, so she looks back down at her screen, trying to take a breath past the ball of fury in her throat.

It takes her a second, but she manages to stutter out a sentence.“Get the fuck out of my office, and crawl back to your pathetic corridor cubbyhole with the rest of the West Wing cockroaches.”

“Amy, come on -”

“Get out!”

“Fine,” Dan says, “Whatever.”

His mouth does that pissy little pouch thing it does whenever he’s, in his words, ‘affronted, but he goes, thank fuck.

The rest of her day is a hyper stressful whirlwind - arranging for a room at the Treasury building, finding a conference Selina can attend all weekend so she’s in the public eye, strong-arming Leon’s editor into making him be the embedded reporter, drafting language for Mike on the President’s deep-seated respect for the American people and her understanding that they need to have faith that the big decisions are being made without being tainted by personal feelings, a briefing with Ben and Kent so they work out exactly what they want to have decided in the room.

It does mean she has to sacrifice her weekend to be Selina’s right hand, but attending the opening of a new branch of the Smithsonian and then a Climate Emergency conference isn’t a terrible way to waste a Saturday.

She manages to talk her down from firing anyone else in the Comms department, though there’s no knowing how long that will last.(Dan hadn’t been joking - Selina is more unhinged than usual, though, fortunately it seems to have little to do with Charlie Baird). 

As always though, solving one problem doesn’t make the eighty-five other crises they’re dealing with any better, and they have to decide what to do about Tom having sneaky fucking conferences with Sidney Purcell and Marwood out in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.Selina vetos Kent’s suggestion that Amy be sent over to staff Tom and act as some kind of spy so fast, Amy doesn’t even get to say anything.(Besides, since she’s no longer on that fucking ‘hot’ list, who knows if it would even work).They also talk about Jonah’s campaign - Candi Caruso, predictably, is having trouble handling him, and the news that Bill Ericcson has got involved is about as welcome as Sophie at an abstinence convention - and take some time to vet the candidates Dan has found as possible replacements for Mike.

Congressional Balls have never been something Amy particularly enjoys, but this one is particularly torturous. 

She has all of twelve minutes to get dressed - barely enough time to get into the damn dress, let alone redo her make-up.Their painstakingly worked out ground game falls apart in the first ten minutes - not exactly surprising, but still frustrating, to say the least. 

Possibly it doesn’t matter - it’s the weirdest damn thing, but Amy’s made to feel like the belle of the fucking ball, every third Congressman asking her to dance, and Buddy Calhoun following her around all night like a sweet-natured but somewhat stupid puppy.

And then Selina goes rogue.

She disappears into the green room with Tom for a full twenty-five minutes, and emerges, grinning from ear to ear. 

Usually, this would be an infallible sign that _bad_ shit is about to hit an even worse fan, but Selina just grabs Amy’s elbow and whispers in her ear, “That _fuckstick_ has a little scheme.He’s going to get the Senate to elect him, he thinks he can pull some backroom bullshit with Marwood and sabotage the House vote.”  


“Right,” Amy says, thinking her boss has the same…energised look she used to get around Andrew. 

“I need you to set up a meeting with Hallows, Talbot and Driscoll, as soon as they’re back in D.C.Discreet, of course, but get it in the diary.This vote isn’t going to reach the fucking Senate, but if it does…he’s going to find our landmines everywhere.Now,” Selina says, even more crazed than usual.“Where’s Charlie?”

“I saw him talking to Gary.”

“That’s about his conversation level.Tell him to head straight the Residence, I want to see him there as soon as I’ve done cleaning my teeth with Nickerson’s ropy fucking neck veins.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She has to duck and weave through the crowd to find Charlie, and usually…usually she’d be pissed off that Selina is using her to send messages to her fuck-buddy, but this time…this time she almost feels like she should follow her example.

She finds Charlie at the Bar, surrounded by a bunch of interchangeable men in suits.“Mr Baird,” she says, “The President will be going back to the Residence soon, and she’s asked if you can join her there.Gary will bring you.”

“Always got to do what my girlfriend asks,” Charlie says, and he really is more charming than he has any right to be.“Thanks Amy - you look beautiful tonight by the way.”

She takes a moment to savour the compliment, and then thinks fuck it and sidles up beside Buddy Calhoun.He’s nice, and not bad-looking, and why shouldn’t she have a little fun for the night?

He orders her a martini and stumbles through complimenting her dress, trying to say (she thinks) that the only reason he came to the ball was to see her, and by the time she’s finished her drink, she’s just about managed to pluck up the courage to say, “Do you want to get out of here?”

The way his eyes light up, you’d think she’d offered him her bone-marrow for his dying mother.

But of course, of course, things can’t ever be that easy.

She has to duck back into her office, to grab her bag and her coat, and Buddy follows her (looking thoroughly gormless in the west wing bullpen, she can admit), and naturally…naturally, she runs into Dan.

She’d lost track of him over the course of the evening (in theory he was supposed to be running back up for Ben, but she had a feeling he’d been sucked into some Mike problem that made the opposite of sense), partly because it was a big room, with lots of tall people, and it was easy to lose someone the moment her back was turned…and partly on purpose.He was looking unfairly handsome in his tux and knowing it, number twenty-what-the-hell-ever on the hot list and sure of himself in ways she’s never once been able to manage.

The look on his face when he sees Buddy is something else.

She can’t tell if he’s pissed or entertained or some bizarre mix of the two, but he actually fucking _laughs_ at her.

“Planning to make a night of it, Ames?”

“We were just going to - that is, Amy asked if I want to - and of course I said yes, I did want to, and -”

“You going to make her pay for dinner too, buddy?”

“Dan,” she says it through gritted teeth, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear her.

“So, you saw she wasn’t on the hot list this year and figured you were in with a shot, huh?”

“I - I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Buddy says, fumbling over his words in an attempt to seem sincere.“Amy’s a great gal, I just wanted to -”

“Get your hands on a fuckable woman, since you only meet one of those say three times a decade in Nevada, and…you’re Secretary of State, you’re not so far out of the Beltway you don’t know the only thing anyone uses the hot list for is to find out who’ll be an easy fuck this year.”

“I…I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Buddy says, “But I would never - it would never cross my mind to -”

“Yes, it would,” Amy says.The two men whip around to look at her, though she doesn’t know why they bothered, she feels fucking _invisible_.“That’s why you were following me around all night, _wasn’t_ it?”Buddy doesn’t say anything, but the guilty look on his face just makes it worse.“Good to know.Could you excuse me please?”

Her voice is so icy she sees Buddy flinch, but she doesn’t care any more, she just wants to get the fuck out of the building, so she pushes past both of them and goes into her office. 

It’ll be the work of thirty seconds, she tells herself, to find her things and leave, and when she gets home she can pour herself a glass of red wine and scream into a pillow.

When she hears the door close behind her, her heart sinks, because she knows, she just _knows_ that Dan will be there.

“You cannot seriously tell me you were going to have a one-nighter with that infant.”

She keeps her back turned to him.“It’s nothing to do with you.”

“I mean, Ames, you want an orgasm that badly, go do your laundry somewhere private, don’t take home a walking fucking advertisement for rabbit vibrators.”

“Leave me the fuck alone,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady.

“I’m doing you a favour,” he says, his voice infuriatingly smug.“You think that vulture would have the slightest fucking idea where your g-spot is?I mean, I know you weren’t on the hot list, but you’re still, you know, cute, you don’t have to be _that_ desperate.”

“What the fuck is this?Some toxic masculinity peacocking bullshit - you ejaculate at random into the crowd, and you’re lecturing _me_ on bad choices -”

“I just don’t want you to make a fool of yourself, Ames.”His face twists in an ugly way.“Just because you’re not top fifty and I almost fucked your sister doesn’t mean you have to lose your fucking mind.”

She has to take a second. 

“If you were anyone else,” she says, and notices her voice is shaking, but fuck it, she’s committed now.“I’d slap you right now.But you’re not worth the time or energy it would take, you endless sack of shit.Do you even hear the way you talk to me?”

She pulls her coat on and goes to leave, because in all honesty, even the thought of spending one more minute in the same room as him is making her physically sick.

It’s not an easy business, making a dramatic exit in a ballgown and heavy coat, and it perhaps shouldn’t have surprised her when Dan grabbed her upper arms.

“Ames,” he says, “Come on, don’t be fucking -”

“Let go of me.”

“Don’t take it so goddamn seriously, I was just -”

“ _Let_ go of me right now.”

But he does no such thing, moving one hand to her face instead, tilting it up to try and make her look at him.

It’s like that fucking corridor all over again.

Only this time, this time she refuses eye contact.And she definitely pretends not to notice when Dan smooths a tear off her cheek.

“Ames,” he says, “Come on - don’t be that way.”

She keeps her eyes focused squarely on his bowtie.“I get that this is all such a funny joke to you, but I…it’s not fun for me when you get bored and decide to rip me to fucking shreds cause you’ve nothing else to do, so just…find someone else.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

She can feel him leaning in - if she looked up at him right now, he’d probably be doing that eyelash thing, probably trying to pretend he’s a human being for once.

She’s not falling for that again.

“Yeah, well, there are an awful lot of women out there and an awful lot of them have sisters, so go find one of them to fucking torment.”

She shoves past him and out the door…and runs right into Kent.

“Amy, Dan,” he says, “We thought you’d left.”

“I’m working on it.”

“We’ve got a car to take you to the airport - we need you to take the last shuttle to Boston.”

“Why?”

Dan sounds as though he’s dreading the answer.

“Candi Caruso has left Jonah’s campaign,” Kent says.“We need you both there to take over before things get any worse. Richard will pick you up from Logan and drive you to Nashua.”

“Can we at least stop at a fucking mall?” 

“The campaign will reimburse you for one day’s clothing - we can have someone courier you both a suitcase tomorrow.”

“Fucking fine,” Dan says, “Have I got two minutes to grab my laptop and -”

“The car will be outside in eight and a half minutes - that should be enough time for both of you to grab whatever you need.”

“I’m not going.”

“Don’t fucking start -”

Kent clears his throat, giving Dan a look of disdain.“Is there a problem, Amy?”

“I don’t think we make a productive team right now, and I don’t think sending another woman up there sends the right message when the last one just left because of what was probably flagrant sexual harassment, and, and, Selina needs me here.”

“The President specifically requested that it be you,” Kent says, trying and failing to sound sympathetic.He knows there’s nothing she can do about that.

Which is how she ends up stuck on a plane with Dan, with her emergency work dress and desk toothbrush shoved in her purse, and a Jon*h Ryan strategy paper on her iPad.

Being stuck in a confined space with him is unbearable.They’re sitting together, and no matter how much she tries to ignore him, she can smell his cologne, feel the pressure of his shoulder against hers, hear his breathing.

They wind up stranded outside Logan airport, waiting for Richard to collect them (because he got lost) (of course he got lost).It’s fine for Dan, comfortable in his tuxedo, but by the time Richard shows up her lips are blue - not that either of them notice.

Ten minutes in, Dan makes Richard swap, which at least speeds up the drive at little, but it’s still close to three when they arrive at the hotel.Where, it turns out, they have to share Candi Caruso’s hotel room, since there are no others going free.

She doesn’t know if it’s the late night or the alcohol or being so angry for so long, but she’s too drained to make a fuss, numbed by it all.

This was never how she’d pictured spending a night with Dan in a hotel room after a ball.

It’s only when she sits down on her side of the bed that she realises she doesn’t have anything to sleep in. 

She has precisely no idea how to solve that problem, and sits there pondering it for as long as it takes Dan to plug in all his electronics, take off his jacket and shoes, and disappear into the bathroom for a quick shower.

When he comes out, shirtless (because of course) he holds up his tuxedo shirt like it’s a peace flag.“You want it?”

She really, _really_ doesn’t - but the other options are sleeping in nothing, her underwear (complete with strapless bra), or one of the gross hotel bathrobes, so…

She takes it out of his hands, and walks towards the bathroom, trying to unzip her dress as she goes.It’s not an easy task, and she hasn’t managed to move it more than an inch or so after thirty seconds of trying.

“I can help with that, you know?”

She meets his eyes in the mirror - for the first time in hours, quite possibly - and tries to decide if he’s fucking with her or not.

Dan must see something in her face, because he stands up, walking towards her slowly, like he doesn’t want to spook her.

She still jumps when he puts his hands on her shoulders. 

“Just get on with it,” she says, trying to maintain her dignity.

Dan nods at her in the mirror, and then slowly, oh so slowly, slides the zip of her dress down until it’s at her waist.“Told you,” he says, and his breathe tickles the soft skin of her neck.“Don’t be long.”

“Or what, you’ll make me sleep on the couch?”

He bends his head then, and for half a second she thinks he’s going to kiss her cheek.“You know I need you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for tomorrow’s fiasco of fuck-up.”She can almost feel his lips moving against her ear, he’s so close.“So, hate to say it but…I want you to hurry up and go to sleep”

“Right,” she says, wondering how he manages to make his voice sound so horny when he’s _not_ talking about sex.She needs to make things clear.“We can sort out the hotel rooms tomorrow.”

Dan nods, and leaves her to pee and wash her face and brush her hair with her fingers.

When she comes out, swathed in the folds of his shirt, she’s bracing herself for some asshole comment.But all he says is “I plugged your phone in.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

She doesn’t know how to approach the bed, how to navigate anything about this situation, and Dan must realise, because he starts to grin, his whole face seeming to fill up with light.

“It’s three a.m.”

“So?”

“So stop fucking smirking at me, and…turn the light off.”

“You’re the boss.”

She rolls her eyes at him, pulls back the covers, and curls up on her side. 

This really isn’t how she expected the night to go.

A moment later, Dan switches the lights off, and starts to settle down.She can see the light from his phone reflected on the wall for a few minutes, and then feel him shifting around, trying to find a comfortable position. 

She doesn’t find it so easy, and after ten minutes or so, when she’s confident he’s asleep, she turns over to lie more comfortably, on her front.

Dan was closer than she’d thought, because in turning over, she nearly rolls on to him, her arm landing on his chest and startling him.

“Sorry,” she says, quietly, not wanting to wake him if he is asleep.

“It’s all right,” he says, lifting his hand to her cheek again.She can see his eyes glitter in the dark - which is how she knows he’s looking at body, not her face.“Did I mention that’s a very good look for you?”

Something in his tone makes her relax for the first time all night, and she slumps against the mattress, finally ready to sleep.

“Don’t fluff me,” she says.“Go to sleep.”

Dan chuckles and puts his hand over hers where it rests on his chest.He’s warm.

“Goodnight, Amy.”

“Asshole.”


	4. Chapter Four

Amy’s spent more of her life in New Hampshire than any rational adult could want, a fact she tries not to think about too much. 

Selina calls her at 6.15, supposedly to strategise about meeting her chosen Senators, but mostly to whine about the agony of spending Christmas with Charlie Baird, Chairman Lu, Catherine, Andrew and his…whoever.That Minna Hakkinen is also attending doesn’t seem to cheer her up at all.

Dan, in something she wouldn’t necessarily have predicted, had wound up sleeping practically on top of her, and trying to wake up, disentangle herself from his various limbs and answer Selina’s questions in a way that seems semi-coherent…is more of a challenge than she’s capable of managing at that hour of the morning, especially when Dan’s discontented mutterings are added to things.

Between the two of them she loses her thread entirely, pissing Selina off in the process.

“Get it _together_ lady,” Selina says, “Was getting on a plane with Dan so difficult you drank some poor stewardess’ entire cart worth of tequila?”

“No,” she says, “I just…we only got in at three ma’am, I’m just not -”

“Tell her to fuck off,” Dan says, and from the tone in his voice, she can tell he means it.

“Was that _Dan_?” Selina says, “Please tell me you haven’t been fucking him - we’ve already had Candi Caruso run screaming out of New Hampshire thanks to Jonah’s twisted mating rituals - and, not for nothing, your salary isn’t high enough to pay for that many antibiotics.And I can’t spare right now you for the eight hours you’d need at the sexual health clinic.”

Selina’s tone gets so high, Amy has to hold the phone away from her ear for a second, before saying, “No, that’s not…it was either share a hotel room with Dan or ask to sleep on Jonah’s sofa, so I chose the lesser of two evils.You don’t want me to come down with hepatitis either.”

“There’s a choice between a rock and an I-don’t-even-want-to-think-about-it-getting-hard place,” Selina says, “You’re my enforcer, you see Jonah attempt to lay even _one_ of his tentacles on any woman, conscious or not, you step in and stop it.”

“Ma’am, I really don’t think that’s something you gotta worry about.”

“Let me tell you something Ame, there are a lot of women out there who hate themselves, you wouldn’t believe.”

“Yes.”

“Go back to sleep,” Selina says, “Call me this afternoon when your brain has started working, I’m going to need something to get me out of having to talk to Charlie.”

“Will do.”

She tosses her phone away, hoping it will land somewhere in the vicinity of the night stand, and slumps back into her pillow… which she realises a moment later is mostly Dan’s shoulder and bicep.

She slits her eyes open, trying to see how awake he is, if she can get away with going back to sleep, and they can ignore the fact they’re basically a human yin-yang symbol right now.

He sees her looking and gives her a lazy (sexy) smile.“I’m taking Jonah to the nearest mall first thing, get him some ties that don’t look like they’ve been painted by a kindergartener on acid.You can sleep in if you want, I’ll make Richard find you something baked and sugary.”

As much as she has no desire to be in the room when Dan and Jonah fight about inside leg measurements…

“You’re being nice to me.What do you want?”

Dan slips his fingers through her hair, his thumb pressing gently against the base of her neck and then sliding under the collar of the shirt she borrowed, teasing and pressing into her skin.“Is it working?”

Of course it’s working.That’s the problem.

“Just say it.”

“Let me be the official campaign manager on this one.”

“And why would I do that?”

“You said it yourself - we can’t put another woman front and centre, not after what happened with Candi.”

“I also said it was an enormous career opportunity.”

“Yeah, you did.”

She stares at him for a long moment, weighing up her options, trying to decide whether she wants to have this fight with him, now or ever.

“You know what,” she says, putting her head down and curling into him just a little more, “If you let me go back to sleep right now, you can have all the dirty glory of getting the first ever man-newt hybrid elected to Congress to your precious self.”

She can feel Dan’s chuckle vibrating his chest. 

“Deal,” he says, and tightens his arm around her. 

He’s so warm in the bed with her she falls asleep again almost immediately.

When she wakes up, Dan’s gone, and there’s a message on her phone saying they’ll pick her up at 11.15. 

Fortunately, their suitcases are delivered by the courier twenty minutes before then, meaning she has something to change into, and doesn’t have to go on the campaign trail wearing her emergency desk drawer dress, stockings and a strapless bra. 

That’s something at least.

She speaks to the hotel reception and manages to get a second room - it takes a little back and forth, but it’s worth it.She doesn’t trust herself to share a room with Dan right now, not even a little - at some soft hour of the early morning he’d give her one of those smiles and she’d climb on top of him and lose every one of the inhibitions she’s spent several decades carefully cultivating.

They have a full schedule - attending a local old folks home, doing a stand-up session at the mall, walking door to door in one of Nashua’s more expensive suburbs (which isn’t saying much). And then it’s back to the campaign office for debate prep.

The debate - and their last opportunity to turn things around - is in two days, and given Jonah’s previous performances, Amy isn’t feeling hopeful

Dan was determined to jump straight into things, so had started the mall walkabout almost as soon as they’d finished shopping, meaning that Richard was sent to collect Amy.Making her way through the hordes of Christmas shoppers at the mall, Amy starts feeling the urge to knock off people’s hats. 

Seeing Jonah’s new look helps to lift her mood, at least a little.She should have known Dan would pull something like this.

“You’re the worst Clark Kent ever,” she says, “You look like Christoper Reeves’ in-bred lumpy-headed cousin.”

She and Dan get into a pointless argument about whether or not she should be photographed with Jonah, partly because of the obvious woman issue, but chiefly because Dan claims that if she stands too close to Jonah the height difference makes him look like he’s either a victim of acromegaly or a child molester, or both.

They keep revisiting the argument all day long, up until they get to Crown Hill and meet Jeff Kane for the first time.Since he’s only an inch or so taller than Amy, Dan gives up the fight and sets himself to work charming all the Soccer Moms in the vicinity.

It’s frightening how well it works.

It’s also a relief, because lord knows Jonah needs the help, and it’s not like Amy’s ever been much good at charming the minivan majority. (Well, in person.She can do it politically when she needs to).

After an hour of tramping through the streets she is variously frustrated, hungry and _freezing_. She doesn’t understand how Dan and Jonah aren’t affected by it - she can barely feel her feet.

Dan doesn’t exactly take pity on her - she’s not sure he’s capable of such a thing - but he’s not one to miss such an obvious opportunity. 

There are about thirty mothers gathered around the (extremely well-manicured) play area, and before they approach them Dan choreographs a little stunt.

Amy is to approach Jonah tell him the President is calling, and in turn Jonah is to ‘notice’ that she’s cold and give her his coat.Selina _is_ going to call, needing to scream at Jonah for some early afternoon stress relief, so that part works...but Amy’s objections that she’s likely to trip over Jonah’s stupid coat get no where.

It’s not like there’s an abundance of stories of Jonah being chivalrous to women, so she gets it, and it’s not like she ever really objected to being Selina’s prop in the past, it’s just…it sticks in her throat that it’s Jonah.And the fact that Dan is perfectly willing to perform (or force someone else to perform) the role of someone who gives a fuck if she’s cold when it suits him… well, it pisses her off, even if she’s trying not to think about it too much.

They make it to the end of the day without Jonah starting any fires they can’t put out reasonably easily.Selina calls her at four, having read the brief in full (finally), and eager to find even more ways to destroy Tom James.Amy tells her she has a meeting with Emma three days after the special election (the day after Christmas), and she’ll probably have at least a name or two after that.

She and Dan have to go for dinner with a bunch of local activists, to talk through the plans for the ‘Get Out the Vote’ operation on election day.They are, predictably, uniformly freaks, dedicated to the political process in a way that is frankly worrying.

When they make it back to the hotel Dan suggests getting a nightcap (he doesn’t seem to notice her wince), and grins in a way she both loves and hates when she says, “I just want to go to bed.”

She’s tired enough that it takes her a second to realise what he thinks she’s said.“I’m in room 32 now, so whatever you want to get up to is your business.”

She can see his mouth forming the shape of some stupid fucking quip that he’s sure to think is incredibly clever, so she walks away before she has to listen to it.

The next day isn’t much better.Debate prep is one long expletive-ridden slog - she finds herself pining for the days of Selina’s poorly thought out haircuts and sudden inexplicable twitches.Richard’s slightly startling ability to impersonate a seventy year old Wasp would be entertaining in other circumstances, but as is, Jeff Kane’s sudden affection for him is just another thing that makes her furious.

Eventually she and Dan manage to browbeat Jonah into delivering something approaching a prepared statement, though she doesn’t have much faith that he’ll stick to it.Frankly, her chief hope is that there are enough terminally frustrated, fundamentally incompetent white men who see themselves in Jonah in New Hampshire that they’ll pull off an upset. Their mid-afternoon visit to an elementary school does not increase her confidence.

And then…there’s the actual debate itself.

Every moment Jonah doesn’t spend offending women or gay people or ethnic minorities, he offends everyone else, on the grounds of good taste and/or basic decency.The only thing that does go their way is Judy Sherman shaking at the podium as though she’s come down with early onset Alzheimers. 

Dan immediately runs to spin something to the press about O’Brien’s candidate lacking the strength to make it through a forty-five minute debate, let alone a filibuster (even as a member of the audience), and Amy stays in the green room, checking emails and then reading Kent’s latest polling datasets.She doesn’t know how to feel when it becomes clear that the Nashua electorate gives not a single solitary fuck that Jonah sexually harassed his last campaign manager to the point of fleeing the state (though who knows, maybe that will have changed after the nineteen times Judy Sherman brought it up).

She jumps when she hears Bill Erickson calling her name.

When she turns, he’s standing in the doorway, looming over her like some perambulant boulder.“Bill,” she says, “Do you always act like a fucking ghoul, or is the piney New Hampshire air making you worse than usual?”

He sits down across from her, giving her a once-over that’s probably intended to be intimidating.“There was a time, you know, when I really thought you might become someone to take seriously.But all you’ve done for the last six months is follow Dan Egan from failure to failure.Is that part of your career strategy?”

“Spoken by a man who can’t keep track of which indictment is going to fuck him over first.I’m amazed your defence attorney is letting you walk around unescorted, given the things you might come out with.”

“You wouldn’t understand this,” he says, “But I have a nine year old son.By doing this I make sure I can pay for a lawyer so he doesn’t have to come visit me in prison, and I get revenge on Selina, so it’s a win-win for me.”

“How quaint,” she says, not bothering to hide her disdain.“When O’Brien has half the immigrant population shipped off to some concentration camp, are you going to tell him that at least _you_ didn’t go to jail?”

“I’m not the first operative to have jumped party, and I won’t be the last,” he says, “Besides, your boss made sure no one on our side will hire me, so…it’s not like I had a lot of choices.And I’m going to win.”

She chooses to ignore his last comment, and leans forward, looking him properly in the eyes.“Supposedly you’re one of the best campaign managers in America - what would you do right now if you were me?”

He gives this look - the same look he’d given her she’s not sure how many times before, the look she’s never quite known what to do with.It’s like he sees right through her.

“I’d stop tying yourself to an ageing Don Juan and find some proper leverage.”

“Bill,” she says, smiling wide.Men are such fucking morons.“Didn’t you ever wonder why my name was never mentioned in relation to the data breach?Why you were the one everyone dumped on?”

“I was the most recent in, it’s not hard to see how that happens.”

“That explains why it was you - doesn’t explain why it wasn’t me.I was the Campaign Manager, the fundraising mailer went out under my watch and yet…no one mentioned my name.You know why?Because I am indi-fucking-spensible.She can barely remember what a veto is when I’m not around. _And_ everyone likes me - when they were picking a scapegoat, no one even mentioned my name.”A thought darts through her then, and she just _knows_.“Even _you_ didn’t.You’re really quite transparent now that I think about it.All that time you spent hovering over my desk, all those weird attempts to seem macho.Is _that_ why you dislike Dan so much?”

“Do you have a point,” Bill says, “Or do you just want to sit here and verbally masturbate, because I have better things to do.”

“No,” she says, “You don’t.You’ve got a court date, I’m guessing early next year, and right now, I am your ticket out of that.”She reaches into her purse, fumbling for her business card, and continues.“Text me your hotel and the room number, and we can talk about it.”

She drops the card into his hand and then makes her way outside.Dan is berating Jonah for…something (it might involve hair products, she’s not sure), and watching them makes her feel very, very tired.The election is in two days.

Jonah wants to celebrate with some of the volunteers (the younger, easier to get drunk volunteers), and Dan has to go with him as a chaperone.Which, in a weird way, suits her down to the ground. 

She talks with Ben while she waits for Bill to text her.(Maybe she’d got it all wrong).He agrees with her proposal, and says he’ll get Selina to take the call.

It’s twenty to eleven before Bill texts her, but fortunately his hotel is only a short walk from hers.It’s even crappier, which is hard to believe, but as a direct result, no one seems to notice or care about her arrival.

He’d clearly been winding down from the day - his shirt is open at the collar and he’s rolled up the sleeves, and his hair is standing on end, as though he’d run his fingers through it.

Being a prick, naturally he takes the only chair in the room, meaning Amy has to sit on the bed.Which is _fine_ , she’s not going to be weird about it, but… it feels strange.

“So,” he says, “Talk.”

“No.You talk.You want the pardon, what can you do for it?”

He glares at her and says, “If I walk out on the Widow Sherman’s campaign the day before the poll, I’ll have burned my boats with O’Brien’s entire party permanently.It has to be something worth that.”

“Yeah, walking out on a congressional race is not big enough to get you a -”

“I can fill you in on details of O’Brien’s team, what they’re thinking.”

“In return for which you’d get a pardon.”

“And a position in the White House.”

“That’s a pretty fucking obvious quid pro quo don’t you think?”

“If she can’t stand a little corruption for the Presidency, she has no business being in office.”

“As opposed to the unable to pass the stringent intelligence tests for actual fascists bag of lymph nodes you’re stumping for?”

“Get her on the phone,” he says, “You’ll see if it’s worth it.”

Selina’s pissed off - with the world, with her family, with Mike - but she’s able to turn on something resembling charm.

“So, Bill,” she says, “You want me to bring the entire system of pardons into disrepute just for you. Have you got _anything_ that would make that worthwhile?”

“Just the presidency ma’am.I can walk out on Judy Sherman in such a way even mentally challenged residents of this backwards state won’t work for her, and all without it touching you.”

“I see.You get a pardon and I get Boris Karloff minus the base level socialisation in Congress.That doesn’t seem like a fair trade - you’ll avoid the ass-rape, but I’ll have an unfinished HR Giger monster in my caucus for the next two years.”

“There’s also Doyle,” Bill says, “He knows you’re planning to fuck him when it comes to the Secretary of State, and he’s planning to fuck you right back.”

“Oh, he knows I never keep my promises.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bill says, “That’s why I won’t say a word more until I have that pardon in writing.”

There’s a pause, and then Selina says, “I’ll call you back in twenty minutes, I need to talk to the White House counsel’s office.”

She hangs up, and Bill stands, saying, “You want a drink?”

“Sure, I’ll have -“

“Tequila?”

“I was going to say whiskey - but the minibar here is probably terrible, so I -”

“It’s terrible, but I think it stretches to that. There’s no ice.”

“Just some water will be -”

“I’m surprised you know how to drink whiskey properly.”

“Do you do this interruption thing all the time, or is it only with women?”

He has his back to her, pouring the drinks, as he says, “Only with women - when I know it will bother them.I bother you.”

She scoffs, tilting her head back so she’s looking at the ceiling.“As you never tire of pointing out, I’m socially incompetent and apparently obsessed with a man who is the walking definition of a cad, so bothering me is nothing to be proud of.”

He hands her the drink, his fingers lingering against hers as he does so.“Even you can do better than Dan Egan and his cornucopia of sexual dysfunction.”

“I think his nickname for his penis is King Danny actually,” she says, and for the first time Erickson laughs.

He has a nice smile, she thinks, and immediately wants to slap herself for thinking it.

“You know that,” he says, his eyes never leaving her face.“And yet you’re here.”

She takes a long sip of her drink, unsure what else to do.“The company’s probably better,” she says, (thinking of Dan and his inability to be in her presence for more than ten minutes at the moment without mentioning either Sophie or nightcaps).

“Well in that case,” Bill says, and there’s a kind of twinkle in his face.She’s not completely surprised when he sits down beside her.“Is there a reason you like to meet in hotel rooms?”

“Sometimes it’s better to be…discreet,” she says, forcing herself not to stammer.“Some conversations need privacy.”

“Whatever did you have in mind that needs privacy?”

As he asks, he slips his hand onto her knee.Not nervous, not hesitant at all, and when she meets his eye he just raises an eyebrow.

“I didn’t come here for that,” she says, and takes a sip of her drink.She wants him to be very clear about the bargain they just made.His hand is so warm. 

“But you can stay for it.”

His fingers dip under her skirt then, searching out the shape of her thigh, the tips of his fingers mere inches away from…

It’s been so long since someone touched her because they _wanted_ to.

And sure, this wasn’t what she’d planned when she came here, but why the fuck shouldn’t she?Dan had taken care to make sure she knew he’d already found…entertainment, after all of two days in New Hampshire, so why _shouldn’t_ she…

She puts her drink down.

“I”m not on the pill, so do you have…”

“I think this is the part where I say I’ll pull out.”

“No, this is the part where I say I wasn’t born five minutes ago, so wrap it up or fuck off.”

“You’re very cute when you’re making rules about fucking,” he says and starts to push her back into the bed.“But you don’t need to worry - I’m equipped.”

She settles back against the pillows, and he follows, coming to rest so that he’s beside her but half on top of her at the same time.The room feels too quiet, every movement they make too noisy, the sound echoing in her ears.

Her hands are braced against his chest, and she knows she’s being weird, it’s just…she doesn’t know how to start.

“It’s good that we’re finally doing this,” Bill says, and leans down to kiss her neck.His mouth is so pleasantly warm, and wet, against her skin, that she squirms underneath him.“I would always have wondered.”

He bites down, (she hopes not hard enough to leave a bruise), and she gasps, she can’t help herself.

“When you came to work for Selina…I thought all you wanted was my job.”

“Oh I did,” he says, pulling his head back, so close to her she can feel his breath on her face when he speaks.“But fucking you would have been a _very_ nice bonus.”

“That’s why you were in such a hurry to get rid of Dan.”

“That little pipsqueak had to go for so many reasons, and I saw the advantages of all of them.”  


She smiles then - she can’t help it.If only someone had told her when she started off in this business just how much men really do think with their dicks…

Maybe that’s enough, because finally, _finally_ , he leans in a kisses her, and there’s nothing, _nothing_ , gentle about it.

(She remembers how _sweet_ Ed always was when he kissed her, how careful, how much she felt like a doll he was trying very hard not to break).

It’s clumsy - he’s trying to shove her skirt up and pull her sweater off and make-out with her all at the same time, not helped by the fact that she’s trying to get his belt off.

She likes the feeling of his weight against her.

By the time she’s got his shirt half open, he has his hand in her underwear and is mouthing against the soft skin of her breast, half-exposed now that she’s down to her camisole.

She _wants_ to rut against his fingers, to feel him pressing against the exact right spot… but for whatever reason, it’s just not rightHe’s too hard, too fast, only glancing against the right spot, and she wants to swear.Is it so much to ask?

After a minute or two, Bill must sense her frustration, because he lifts his head and looks at her quizzically.“Not doing it for you?” 

She cringes, memories of multiple boyfriends getting pissed off swirling in her head.“Sorry, I - it’s me - I just -”

“Spare me the veiled attempt to preserve my ego,” he says, his voice in deeper than usual.“And show me how you do it on yourself.”

She can _feel_ her eyes go wide, but he must not know what her reaction means because, sounding annoyed, he adds, “Don’t even try to tell me you don’t.”

“It’s not that,” she says, “Just…I…yes.”

It’s easy, now that she knows it’s what he wants, to guide his fingers to the right spot, to steer him so he knows how firm, how fast to go with her… 

She’s always been vaguely embarrassed about the sounds she makes when she comes, how high and girlish she sounds, like some fucking teenager who’s never had a sexual experience before…but that doesn’t stop her from being pissed off when he stops, out of _no where_.

“What the fuck -”

“Your phone is ringing.”

Selina.Goddamnit.

She’d been so _close_.

She answers and puts the phone on speaker, lying back down and trying not to breathe too heavily.

“All right shitbirds,” Selina says, “Bill, you there?”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, keeping his eyes on Amy.He has a condom packet in his hand, much to her relief.

“Here’s the deal.We’re going to courier that pardon up to Amy tonight, so she’ll get it some time tomorrow morning. She’ll take a picture and send it to you so you know it’s arrived.And then you can drop your little resignation with whatever dirt you’ve got on the widow Sherman.”

She’s trying to pay attention, she really is, but mostly she’s looking at the movement of Bill’s hands.

“Now understand the fucking deal,” Selina says, in that tone that always makes her sound borderline unhinged.“You try to fuck us, Amy drops that thing straight in the nearest shredder.And you announce anything, you say a single fucking word to anyone except your attorney before we say you can, you can kiss that White House job goodbye.”

Bill rolls on top of her, pressing his hips into hers, and says, “I’ll do it after our strategy meeting with the O’Brien guys, make sure I’ve got the very latest intel.”

“Fine by me,” Selina says, and fortunately she’s too busy listening to herself talk to hear Bill’s grunt as he gets himself in position.“But the second you get that fucking pardon, you get yourself in front of a camera, and you knife that fucking widow in the political kidneys.”

“That won’t be hard to do,” he says, pushing into her, fucking _finally_.

“Any reason that won’t work at your end, Ame?”

She needs him to move so badly she can hardly stand it - she’s got this _ache_ \- but she just about manages to say, “We’ve got that…that trip to the woods tomorrow morning, but…”(She shifts, moving her hips, trying for some friction, and Bill shakes his head at her, the _bastard_ ).

“What the fuck ever,” Selina says, “Have Richard stay behind and drive it out to you if you have to, he should be able to manage that much.”

“Yes ma’am,” she says, seized with a sudden urge to laugh.(She’s almost fully dressed, talking to the President of the United States, and Bill Erickson has his dick in her.It is simultaneously the most ridiculous and most _filthy_ thing that has ever happened in her entire life).(And it’s so weird, because she _barely_ knows him - not that she needs a guarantee of a six month relationship before fucking someone, but…just…)

“We got a deal then?”

“As soon as I’ve got that pardon I’m yours.”

Selina hangs up, and Bill’s tongue is in her mouth immediately, faster even than he starts thrusting into her, harder and faster as she urges him on, the pressure building so fast she can’t even stop herself from crying out.

It doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t need to. 

She has to push Bill off her - he’s too heavy to have lying on her when he’s a dead weight - and he rolls on his back.Before she thinks to close her legs - still recovering herself - he grabs her upper thigh, stroking the soft skin on the inside with his thumb.

They’re both out of breath.

“You can stay if you want,” he says, “Kind of late to be walking back.”

“Offering out of the goodness of your heart, are you?”

He grins at her wolfishly.“I quite like the idea of waking up to you balancing on my cock.”

“Of course you do,” she says.“I don’t promise I’ll wake up first.”

“If that’s your only objection…”

She doesn’t bother responding to that comment, and says, “Have you got something I can sleep in?”

He gives her one of his tee shirts and they finish their drinks while talking state delegations and which representatives might - might - have resisted atrophy of the conscience enough to feel obligated to fall in with the popular vote.

It’s the nicest evening she’s had in a long time.

* * *

Things the next day run surprisingly smoothly.The pardon arrives, she gets the message to Bill…and okay, Jonah shoots himself in the foot, but Bill uses the opportunity of his candidate publicly responding to this idiocy (and insulting gun owners) to announce his immediate resignation from the campaign, due both to O’Brien’s not-even-neo fascist politics and the enormous pay-off the Nashua school district had to make to get Judy Sherman resign and avoid a massive child abuse scandal.(The details of this aren’t exactly clear, but less than twelve hours before an election they don’t have to be).

Between the implication that she was abusive towards any non-Wasp school child and the NRA issuing a strongly worded condemnation… the widow Sherman is toast, and the New Hampshire state delegation is (at least theoretically) now in Selina’s column for the House vote.

It’s nice to get to lord her brilliance over Dan yet again - he’s so thrilled he doesn’t even really mind, telling Jeff Kane that she’s his secret weapon.

Bill calls her while Jonah is giving his (fucking terrifying) victory speech.It’s a surprise, because she’d honestly thought it was a one-and-done, something they’d pretend had never happened the next time they saw each other.

“Congratulations,” he said, “You got Jonah and his foot fungus to Congress.”

“Oh, we both know he’ll fit right in.”

“So, how are you planning on celebrating?”

“Jonah thinks there’s going to be some kind of bacchanal, and I think I’m going to go pack my suitcase so I can skip it.”

“You should do that,” he says, “And then you should come here, so I can fuck you against the door.”

There’s something about hearing the roughness in his voice, the way it rumbles out of his throat, that’s _really_ fucking doing it for her.Not that she’s going to tell him that.

“I’m not some fucking sex Uber,” she says, “You want an escort, call one of them.”

“I don’t think Nashua’s finest working girl wants to hear about Andrew Doyle’s schemes.Besides, I’ll fuck you in the bed after.Maybe we’ll even get to take each other’s clothes off this time.”

She pretends to mull it over - though she knows she’s going - and finally says, “I want a slice of pie.And I _will_ be checking my phone.”

“As long as it’s not when I’m actually inside you, I don’t really care.”

She rolls her eyes, tells him she’ll be there in ninety minutes or so, and makes her way over to Danto tell him she’s leaving.

As usual, he can’t resist making another fucking joke about nightcaps (he must figure that she has to laugh sometime, seventy-third time lucky, right?), and he does, in a half-assed way, try to convince her to stay for the party.But the promise of a tequila shot or two is not enough to make a night of reminders that she’s completely unfuckable to him worth it.

(And, she realises the next morning, it wouldn’t even have been that much, as Dan had run off to be interviewed by every news station that would take him, and some that wouldn’t.His glee in recounting that he’d been on Fox News is pretty damn terrifying).

She makes it back to their hotel before he realises she didn’t spend the night there, and they drive back down to Boston together to catch their plane.

Since it’s Christmas Eve, the airport is like something out of a Love, Actually parody.Richard is so stupid he has to walk through the scanner three times, having forgotten to remove various items from his pockets.Why he needs a bespoke metal survival tool she doesn’t want to know.Their flight is delayed for three hours, which, admittedly is three hours she doesn’t have to spend with her family, but she’s not sure who’s more insufferable - Jonah high on the fumes of victory, or Dan preening himself over his TV offers.

She’s starting to consider a visit to the airport spa - not because she wants to go, but because it would get her away from the rampant male egos.She could get a manicure (Selina’s always so picky about people’s nails), or some other thing that is supposed to be relaxing for women but is actually mildly painful.

When Bill sits down opposite them she gets a chill.

“Congratulations Congressman,” he says, “It will be interesting to see which lobbyist chews you up and spits you out first.”

Jonah fumbles through offering him a job - since he’s about to be a convicted felon and all, it’s not like anyone else will hire him.

Bill treats this proposal with the contempt it deserves, and, keeping his eyes on Amy the whole time, says, “Thanks, but I see bigger and better things in my future.”

She can _feel_ the moment Dan becomes suspicious, the way his body tenses as he looks between them, and _fuck_ …she’s about to be stuck on a flight with him…

When Richard interrupts to tell her Doyle has agreed to come to the meeting with Hallows and the other Senatorial feminists like she’d asked, she’s so relieved she forgets to be irritated with him.

“And the President has asked if you can schedule a call with her tomorrow afternoon to strategise.”

She nods, rapidly, hoping Bill will leave it alone, hoping they can keep things calm… which is when he says, “So, are you still going to your family tonight?”

“Excuse me?” Dan says (because what, only he’s allowed to assume an inappropriate intimacy with her when it comes to her family?)

“Eh…it depends,” she says, “If the flight is very late, I probably won’t bother.”

Bill nods, and stands.“Dolts, Amy,” he says.“If you want you can come over tonight for Chinese and then I’ll have you for dessert - if that’s what you feel like.See you on the plane.”

_Asshole_.

She waits maybe ten seconds and then stands, saying, “I’m hungry, I’m getting a muffin.”

It doesn’t work, of course, because Dan comes sprinting after her, his face alight with something she can’t identify.“So _that’s_ how you got him to quit the campaign, fucking him?”

“Sometimes you really are as dumb as you look,” she says, finding energy she didn’t know she had to be pissed off with him all over again.“I got him to quit the campaign, and _then_ I fucked him - because unlike you, I’m capable of making political moves that don’t require being on my back.”

“And you’re what, going to spend Christmas Eve blowing him under some pathetic divorced Dad tree?”

“ _Why_ not?Maybe I’ll enjoy it.”

“Oh please, Ames, this is a new low even for you.”

“The fuck is wrong with you,” she says, finally pushed past the point of endurance.“You’re about an inch away from being the abusive ex in a Lifetime Movie.Do you think if you keep telling me the mere concept of me and sex in the same sentence is fucking laughable I’ll just, what, roll over and never sleep with anyone ever again?”

“I get it,” Dan says, in a faux-apologetic tone that makes her want to crush his throat in her fist.“I hurt your feelings when I nearly fucked your sister.There’s no need to act out like some intern on her first week in a Senate office”

“Your dick just completed a tour of New Hampshire’s shittiest four counties, so pardon me for not giving a single reflective shit about your opinion of my sexual etiquette.”

“You are not spending Christmas Eve with Bill the increasingly dull knife.”

“Why not?Do you have a better offer?”

It’s not completely a surprise when Dan laugh, actually laughs, at the mere idea, but it still _hurts_.She doesn’t bother arguing with him further, just walks away to get that manicure. 

She’s sitting beside Richard for the flight, and for the first time ever, she’s not going to make him swap with Dan.

(She texts Bill to say she’ll come over as soon as she’s out of his sight).


	5. Chapter Five

Selina postpones their meeting with Driscoll, Hallows, Talbot and Doyle until January 4th, insisting that she is focusing on winning round the state delegations for the House vote.Admittedly, this mostly seems to consist of definitely coincidental announcements from the Chinese government about major investments and manufacturing jobs they’re going to create in various Rust Belt states.

Amy’s fine with all of that, as far as it goes - especially as she doesn’t have to negotiate with the various Representatives Ben’s managed to dragged out of the grimmest corners of the Longworth building.She’s reasonably confident the last time any of them saw sunlight, a woman who isn’t a lobbyist being compensated with a criminally high salary, or one of their constituents, was some time back in the late 1970s. 

It means she spends the time between Christmas and New Year meeting with Emma and the various witnesses… and spending a lot of nights at Bill’s apartment.

It’s not like any relationship she’s ever had.

It’s not a relationship for a start. 

He’s at a loose end, since Selina can’t announce that she’s hired him until after she’s been given the presidency, and he’s bored, so he invites her over most nights.It’s not dating, it’s fucking, she knows that, (and it’s pretty great), but since he has nothing to do, and he’s an actual grown-up, he…cooks her dinner.One night, when she’s particularly cranky, having had to spend several hours convincing Michelle Yorke, one of the more unstable witnesses, to go on the record if it’s necessary, he takes one look at her, and tells her to take a bath and he’ll bring her a glass of wine.

Sure, she still spends most of it scrolling through her emails on her phone, and Bill comes in after ten minutes or so and sits on the toilet so they can talk through her pitch for Doyle, but it’s… _nice._ The goulash he feeds her afterwards is even nicer, and getting to sit on his face before she goes to sleep is, well, pretty damn good.

She’s not going to get _romantic_ about him, that’s not what’s going on, she knows that, and that’s fine. 

It’s a relief dealing with someone who doesn’t make her second guess every single thing, who’s on the level about what he wants from her (and how much of it) (and how often). It’s much, much better than the time she spent dating Ed, and all his convoluted feelings that he was incapable of ever expressing. 

It’s the first time in she can’t remember how long that she’s felt able to properly relax around the man in her life.

Bill wants to fuck her and share some meals and have some conversations.(And he wants her not to come over on the days his son is visiting, since that would be confusing, which is fine, she can respect that.She’d like to think that if she had a kid of her own she’d put them first).

She doesn’t know if Dan knows she’s still seeing him.Sometimes she thinks he does, sometimes she thinks he doesn’t, and sometimes she genuinely doesn’t give a fuck, because if she has to hear one more time about all the television offers he’s fielding…

It’s literally all he talks about.

Every time she’s stupid enough to agree to go to lunch with him, every time they’re both waiting for a meeting to begin, or walking back to the office afterwards, he won’t shut the fuck up about how, no matter what, he’s going to start a new and glittering career, and get the hell away from Selina, the White House and her (the last one goes unstated, but sometimes she thinks he’s mentioning it so often to make that exact point).

She doesn’t know how to feel about it.

Objectively, she knows that Dan has _always_ been a toxic sludge monster walking around in a skin suit, and objectively, she’s probably better off if he goes away and she doesn’t have to see him again, ever, or for at least twenty years, and objectively she should be cheering him on and doing her level best to get him packed off somewhere he can’t do her any more damage.

But.

She hadn’t realised just how much time she’d been spending with him since he got her the job in KPM, hadn’t noticed all the different ways he’d found to insinuate himself into almost every single corner of her life.

There’d been the after work drinks, the lunch hours, the Sunday morning phone calls (when he was coming back from she didn’t want to know where and insisted that they go for brunch), the late night texting sessions lambasting whatever commentator had inexplicably taken the opportunity to display the distressing vacuum where their brain should be to the nation.He’d even tricked her into carpooling with him for a week or two (when Sidney wanted them to pretend to care about the environment for a client), and had shown up on each of his mornings with coffee and doughnuts. 

She’d been acting like his fucking _wife_.On one memorable morning, he’d had a smear of sugar left on his upper lip, and, irritated by his failure to wipe it off, she’d reached out with her thumb to do it for him.The smirk he gave her when he saw what she was about to do had made her blush, and she’d withdrawn her hand as if scalded.

He’d been in a particularly good mood with her the rest of the day. 

Unlike now, when he was in such a bad mood with her, constantly, even _Kent_ had noticed it. For the first time in her life, she’s feeling sympathetic to Jonah, because when Dan decides to go full bastard with you, he _really_ commits to it.

She’d never really thought of him as being nice to her until he wasn’t.

She tries to tell herself it doesn’t matter, and that it will be over soon, when he flies off to wherever terrifying TV studio will have him, and that it’s just the stress of the House vote that means it’s getting to her…which is _true_ , goddamnit.

But the other truth is, if Dan wasn’t making every working day a drawn-out misery, she probably wouldn’t be spending so many nights with Bill Erickson.If nothing else, it’s better to be there than to spend her nights at home sobbing into her ice cream or whatever other tragic cliche she felt like enacting.

And then they lose the House vote.

Or well, they don’t lose.Nobody wins. 

Selina is predictably furious - with Jonah - with Tom James - with the Speaker - with America and with humanity as a whole.Amy’s starting to have some sympathy for her often expressed rage with at the Founding Fathers.

But there’s still time to resolve the issue, and Selina gives an address that night, reminding the great, wise, judicious American public, that this has happened before, that in 1800 Congress voted thirty-six times before they came to an agreement.Of course, Selina hopes they’ll be a little faster this time, hopes Congress will recognise that in a case like this, without a clear message from the Electoral College, they are obligated to vote for the person who won the popular vote.

It’s unlikely of course that such considerations will have any influence on the variously corrupted jellyfish that make up the House of Representatives, but it’s a great line.And since they only have to win over one or two additional states, Ben is confident the next vote will be a success.

In the meantime, she has to sit in on the most excruciating tea party she has ever attended.

Senators Talbot, Hallows and Lucy Driscoll, as well as Andrew Doyle, all in a single room without any liquor.

It sounds like the subject of a deeply unfunny political cartoon.

Talbot and Hallows are notoriously the feminist heart of the Senate (a phrase Kemi Talbot has actually spoken aloud without blushing, as though proof were needed of her overwhelming ambition). Lucy Driscoll is not the feminist heart of anything, but she has pull with the Majority Leader, which is important for Selina’s plan.

Doyle has no idea why he’s there, but he’s bristling with indignation nonetheless.Of course, Doyle’s default state of being is bristling with indignation - Amy’s never met anyone who so clearly takes pleasure in the sensation of having been wronged.

Selina adopts a sober, dour tone which she imagines is presidential, and takes all four of them through Emma’s dossier, the women Tom has assaulted, the careers he’s destroyed, how she couldn’t live with herself if she allowed a rapist within a heartbeat of the presidency. 

That’s why she wants Hallows and Talbot to vote against the party, and support Laura Montez for the Vice-Presidency.And she hopes that the Republicans will see this is an earnest of good intent, proof that she, as President, will be willing to compromise for the good of the nation.And a solution that reflects both parties, with the winner of the popular vote in the Oval Office, might be just what the American people had voted for.

And then, she turns to Doyle, who has been glowering the whole time, and says, “I’m sure you have thoughts.”

“This is who you replaced me with?”

“Andrew,” Selina says, giving him a smile with a hint of sharpness, “We both had concerns about your health.And you wouldn’t want me to be a hypocrite, and only act _sometimes_ when I hear of sexual harassment taking place in high offices?”

“ _I_ never - you can’t possibly be implying…”

“I’m not,” Selina says.“I’ve known Tom for nearly two decades, and he was a good friend to me during that time.So you can imagine how upsetting it’s been for me to discover who he really is.”

“What do you want from me?” Doyle says, having finally caught on that something is afoot.

“Well I know I promised to make you my Secretary of State,” Selina says.“But to be frank, having thought about it, I don’t think that’s where you can do the most good - really make your mark.”

“Oh? What pathetic twig are you going to throw me this time?”

“Attorney General.Let’s face it, our foreign relations are strong - I’ve even managed to negotiate an agreement with Iran, we don’t need you there - but what this disgusting briefing document illustrates is… our system of government is _infected_ with sexual harassment.It’s not just Tom, it’s not just Teddy, it’s a _culture_.And that culture has to change.I want you to appoint a Special Counsel to investigate everyone, and I want you to make sure they do it right, and they don’t bend to political pressure, and, in your spare time…I want you to look into constitutional reform.An Article V Convention, a vote in Congress, I don’t give a single fragrant shit, so long as we don’t repeat the catastrofuck the last few weeks has been any time in the next hundred years.”

They’ve got him, Amy can tell.Andrew Doyle might try to pretend he’s the nation’s grandpa, but what he mostly wants is a chance to be more than a footnote in the history books.Scratch a politician, find a narcissist, there’s no more reliable truth in the world.

Of all people, it’s Hallows who proves the challenge.Driscoll had nodded and smiled and not exactly committed to anything, but she seemed at least to understand the majority of Selina’s sentences, and standing up for abused women was so on-brand for Kemi Talbot she was practically crafting the perfect instagram post as they spoke.

But Hallows hums and haws about being seen to betray the party, and the possibility of a primary challenge in eighteen months…and that’s when Selina surprises her.

“Barbara,” she says, “You know I wouldn’t expect you to do that without cover.Mike leaked the brief to Leon West yesterday - you probably already have news alerts about it. People are going to think you’re leading on this issue, showing political courage.”

This wasn’t what they’d agreed.

She doesn’t say anything of course, sitting there frozen as they all file out and the rest of the senior staff file in.Selina’s recounting her triumph - that she has guaranteed Tom won’t be elected, that whatever little tricks he thought he could play with the Speaker won’t save him from this one - and she’s so fucking thrilled it’s like she’s been injected with liquid barbiturates.

“Ma’am,” she says, “Has Mike…called any of them?”

“Called any of who,” Selina says, “Have you any idea how hard it was to make sure he lost the document I specifically told him not to lose in front of Leon West and not some other idiot reporter?”

“Any of the _women_ ,” Amy says, feeling lopsided.Sure they’ve done some dark shit before, but… “Their names are going to be dragged through the mud, they’re going to get death threats and shit, and we promised - I said we would _protect_ them.”

Everyone is staring at her, as though they can’t quite decide if this is the moment to pretend to have a conscience.

“Well you shouldn’t have said that then, should you,” Selina says, “Did you really imagine someone could accuse the VP of being a serial rapist and their name would stay lost in the mists of time?”  


“That’s not the - ma’am, _we_ don’t have to be the ones to throw them to the fucking wolves.”

Selina shakes her head at Amy, as though she’s somehow baffling, as though she’s being _cute_.“Ame, grow up,” she says.“You brought this to me, what did you think was going to happen?”

“You can’t do this to them - you’re going to destroy their entire lives, for -”

“They were raped.Their lives are already destroyed.And if you think it’s not worth sacrificing their non-existent dignity to keep a man like that out of power, then you’re even more fucking naive than Richard.I’ll throw a hundred fucking rape victims overboard if it means keeping a rapist out of the White House, and so should you. You know that’s what he wants, you know that.You want a man like that in a position of power?”

“We have to call them, warn them that this is coming - ma’am, it could have been me, you know that.”

“And it’s a very good thing you were so desperate to get on Dan’s dick back then that it wasn’t, and some other poor girl got to wake up in a Four Seasons hotel room, split down the middle in ways it takes a lifetime to fix - cause if it had been you girlie, since you were work for me no one would believe it, and throwing your name out there for the press would be worthless.Now, you can sit down, shut up and drink some of this _lovely_ champagne I bought to celebrate destroying that walking disease and his creepy fucking ambition…or you can get the fuck out of my office.”

There’s a long moment of silence - Gary’s looking between the two of them like the sky has fallen in, Kent is attempting to register a recognisable emotional expression on his face, Ben is shaking his head, and Dan… Dan’s fucking _grinning._

Amy stands, clenching her phone, and walks out.She can’t be in that room.

(Hearing Selina laugh as she walks away doesn’t help).

She goes to the ladies room, calls Emma, and has a whispered conversation with her about what’s just happened.If it comes from Emma, she has plausible deniability - but someone has to warn them of what’s coming.Someone has to tell them not to answer their phones, to stay with friends or family for a few days, to lock down their social media accounts and turn on two-factor authenication, to call their employers and let them know they’re going to take a few days off and it’s going to be to everyone’s benefit.

When she goes back to her office, Dan is waiting for her.

She should have known.

He’s sitting in her chair, because of course he is. 

“So,” he says, looking her up and down.“This was your special project?”

She thinks of snapping at him, thinks of starting a fight, thinks of ways to turn this around on him so he’ll fuck off and she won’t have to deal with him.But she’s too fucking tired, and…heartsick, too disappointed in…Selina, in herself, for not having seen it coming, in the whole damn world, so all she says is, “What do you want?”

“This cannot be that much of a shock to you.”

“Dan, I have _had_ it today, all right, I can’t deal with-”

“Come on,” he says, handing her her coat.“We’re getting an iced-tea.From the place that we like.”

Over the years this has become a weird code for ‘getting the hell away from the insanity before it drowns us,’ and so she goes, though she doesn’t expect she’ll enjoy it.

Dan’s placing their orders (they hadn’t gone for iced tea in the end, detouring instead to a cocktail bar not too far from the White House.She needed whiskey) when the alerts start coming in.

Dozens of alerts flashing up on her phone, complete with regretful, disappointed comments from Selina, and footage of Michelle Yorke being accosted by some cameraphone-wielding moron outside the think tank where she works.

When he sits back down beside her, she turns her phone over, so she doesn’t have to look at it.

Taking a gulp of the drink he places in front of her doesn’t help.

“So,” Dan says, “Is it true?”  


“Which part?”  


“Any of it - all of it - I’m not picky.”

“Yeah, I know,” she says, reflexively, and he makes a face at her.“And yes, it’s all true, as far as I can tell.When you read the brief you’ll see, he had a pattern, things he did every time, and I…I recognised it.”

“Guess you got lucky,” Dan says, not even pretending to be anything other than smug.

“Guess I did,” she says, trying not to show how she’s feeling in her voice.“All that time I spent pissed at myself for being so fucking stupid and not seeing through…and it might have been the luckiest thing that ever happened to me. Maybe I should be thanking you.” 

“Well of course you should,” Dan says, “Think of all the joy I’ve brought you since we’ve known each other.”

She doesn’t answer, but she does knock back her drink. 

She can’t be around him right now.

“Thanks for the drink,” she says, “You can tell her I’ve gone for the day - if she asks.She’s probably so drunk on victory she’ll barely notice a drone strike in the Rose Garden, let alone - I’m going.”

She’s on the sidewalk by the time he catches up to her. 

“Ames,” he says, grabbing her wrist.

She shakes him off. 

It’s not that she doesn’t want him to touch her - it’s that she does.She wants to…throw herself into his arms and stay there forever, she wants to bury his face in his shoulder and let him deal with this shit for her, and… 

But that’s not who he is.Not for her.

“What?” she says, and her tone is so sharp it pisses him off.

“Stop acting like a crazy person.You fucked him, all right, Tom is not going to be VP, he’s not going to be President, he’s not going to be anything, because of you.”

“You’re both the absolute human _worst_ , you know that?Have you any idea what could have _happened_ to me?Why am I even asking - you’ll read that goddamn brief and fucking _preen_ yourself, you’ll be so fucking proud, and so glad that he committed all those _atrocities_ , because now we get to fuck him and isn’t that convenient. and it could have been -”

“But it _wasn’t_ ,” Dan says, and for half a second she thinks he’s going to reach out and touch her arm.She wishes he would.

“Whatever,” she says, “I’m going home.”

“I’ll come with you, we can do whatever we need to do from -”

“ _No_ , Dan.”

“ _Why_ not _,”_ he says, and his face is utterly poisonous.“You got Bill shitting Erickson coming over or something?”

“If I do, it’s because he doesn’t hear about the time I came this close to being… and use it as an excuse to feel really fucking good about himself.”

“It didn’t cross your mind that I was glad?”  


“No, it didn’t,” she says, “And you aren’t, don’t pretend.”

“Amy,” he says, like he doesn’t know any other words to say to her.

“I can’t believe she would do that,” she says, looking at the ground, not looking at him, “I should have expected it, but we’d talked about it, and I thought - I’m going.”

When she can finally bring herself to look at her phone, late in the evening, she is…peeved to discover some idiot intern, probably zombified out of his gourd on cocaine, has posted several pictures of her and Dan having a “heated conversation” outside the bar, leading to rampant speculation on the trashier political blogs.

But their moment of paparazzi stardom is swept from everyone’s minds by the slow-motion bedlam that unfolds over the next few days.

Montez is elected Vice-President, which, fine they were expecting that - and she has at least a brain cell and a half and _isn’t_ a terrifying white supremacist, so they can live with her - and gives a speech on the steps of the Capitol the next day, reassuring a grateful nation that whatever happens next, they will have a stable government.

Selina grumbles and tells them to look into ways of limiting Montez’s power, but she doesn’t seem threatened, and gives her own address to the nation that night, reminding them with almost two weeks to go, there’s _plenty_ of time for Congress to elect an _actual_ President.

Only that isn’t what happens.

The Speaker says he’s “taking soundings” and “embarking on a listening exercise” and refuses to answer any summons to show his miserable trapezium face in the White House.

And then, the Monday before inauguration day, he announces that, following due consideration, he has decided _not_ to schedule a second vote for the Presidency.They have an acting President, he says, one even President Meyer has endorsed, and it’s time for the nation to move forward, and heal, after this most divisive and uncivil campaign.

The political press goes nuts, of course, and broadcast news is a shitshow of talking heads trying to fill time while their researchers dig up information on precedent and constitutional law and all those things the pundit class has always been too focused on “Real Political Issues” to pay attention to.

The White House Counsel’s office says a Supreme Court hearing is a possibility, but emphasises that it would be better to resolve it informally.She thinks the Court will be reluctant to issue a ruling on what is effectively a matter of House procedure - the Speaker’s right, or lack thereof, to schedule votes isn’t a subject the constitution talks about.House rules are for the House to decide… which of course gets them fucking no where.

The Whips assure them that they’ll come up with some procedural trick to force the Speaker to schedule a follow-up vote…any minute now, and Doyle, not only agrees, but sets up camp with five of the party’s brightest minds to make it happen.

Unsurprisingly, by the day before the Inauguration, they don’t have anything, though of course they’re still confident. 

Selina gives a barnstormer of a speech, with O’Brien standing beside her, about how the Speaker is abusing the power of his office, how he’s denying the American people their voice in the government, how this will not stand…

But Amy doesn’t think there’s a chance in hell of Marwood budging. 

O’Brien was an embarrassment to them - Montez put a well-spoken, white lady veneer over the party’s traditional sexism and xenophobia - and why risk a sure thing if they didn’t _have_ to?Plus, if she did catch a bullet, that would make Marwood President, so any which way he came out ahead.

Not that they’re giving in.

An iron-clad edict goes out to the party - no one is to participate in the _farce_ of an inauguration, Montez has permission to live in Number One Observatory Circle, _not_ the White House, and Selina…decamps the night before, back to her mother’s house in Maryland. 

She’s not going to dignify an attempted coup by showing up to smooth things over.

(Charlie was supposed to go with her, but apparently she was much less attractive now that she wasn’t President, because he discovered that he had to be in New York for urgent reasons that he would definitely be able to explain any day now).

Amy watches the inauguration in her apartment with Bill, trying (and failing) to resist the urge to send abusive texts to Dan, the fucking traitor, who’s on CNN rambling about just what makes this inauguration unique in comparison to previous ones.He gets one or two good shots in there about how every other President had been _elected_ , about how an _Acting_ President isn’t the same thing at all…but she’s still pissed with him.

Going by the tv coverage, the entire country is terrified. Amy can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.It might explain why Sophie calls seven times that night - though it’s not like her sister has ever taken well to being ignored.

When she wakes up the next morning, Bill isn’t in the bed with her, and she wanders out to find him sitting at her dining table, drinking a coffee and reading his phone, peering at it through his glasses.

“You don’t have any food here,” he says, disapproving of her life choices.

“I’m not…I don’t spend a lot of time - I’m out a lot.”

“I’ve ordered breakfast burritos.”

Which is weird, and domestic, and not like them, but whatever, she’s hungry.And since, going by Ben’s report, Selina is too hungover to face them, she doesn’t have to drive down to Maryland until the next day.

Which might be why, when her phone rings and she sees her Mom’s name, she does something unusual, and picks up.

“Amy, where are you?”

“I’m at home - don’t know if you noticed, but we’ve been having a bit of a crisis and -”

“Are you sitting down?”  


“What’s happened?”

Her Mom takes a breath, something jagged in it, and it’s like a black hole opens up right beneath Amy’s feet, filled with so many different things that she never wants to think about.

“It’s your Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed that my interpretation of the Congressional vote for President would (or should) work is rather different from the show's. I won't pretend to know if it's more accurate or not, but I did enough research to know that multiple votes are possible (the 1800 election Selina refers to is the one where Hamilton caused so much trouble for Burr, if anyone wants to look it up).


	6. Chapter Six

Immediately after the CNN coverage of the faux-inauguration, Dan gets a call from CBS.

It’s not a hard choice to make.

He _could_ stay, he could watch Selina flail at the presidency for a while longer, he could spend another year or two putting up with Gary and Mike and the whole incompetent pack of them, he could watch Amy try to hide her smirk every time Bill Erickson texts her to suggest another game of the “hide the bratwurst,” but he has absolutely no desire to do so.

She’s been giving him nothing but ice for months - when she isn’t raging at him - but Bill Erickson blows in her ear once or twice and she rolls right over? What the fuck?

Reading the fourteen - fourteen! - hate messages she sent him while he was on air (apparently participating in the Inauguration in any way - even if he was using the opportunity to call it out as the abuse of the Constitution it was - was enough to turn him into the love child of Benedict Arnold and Vidkun Quisling) didn’t improve his mood.

He calls her almost as soon as he gets off the phone - he wants to tell her that, thanks to her sterling career advice, he got the CBS job he wanted, he wants to remind her that he’s leaving and he’s not going to be around to listen to her rage-fits.Somehow, he doesn’t think Bill fucking Erickson is going to be willing to indulge her anger disorder when the thrill of having Amy suck his cock has worn off.

He doesn’t think about it much - obviously - he doesn’t think about it at all - but the idea of Amy and _him_ does not sit right with Dan at all.He's so _obviously_ manipulating her, using his access to Amy to soften Selina up, toying with her for as long as it takes to get a pardon, he can’t understand why she doesn’t see that.

Not to mention that any man who pursued her when she was blatantly in love with Dan (he knows it, she knows it, New Hampshire campaign volunteers who’ve met them both for a grand total of forty-five seconds know it) had to have an ulterior motive, he just had to.

Of course, whenever he had pointed out these self-evident facts to Amy, she’d just hissed at him like an angry cat and then ignored him in favour of her phone, presumably texting Bill again to offer him yet another opportunity to play out his post-divorce midlife crisis psychodrama.

If her irritatingly smiley mood when she came in each morning - before they’d really spoken - was anything to go by, the sex was more fulfilling than Dan would like. 

Admittedly, given Amy’s crap taste in guys - she’d been going to sleep with Nevada’s Billy Callaghan for fuck sake, clearly she lacked even the faintest radar for men who might, theoretically, be able to give her an orgasm - if Bill reliably made her come one night in three, he was almost certainly one of the best lovers she’d ever had. 

And if she’s satisfied with settling for that, when she could have had…well, _fine_. 

He’d sort of hoped - or considered the possibility at least - that Jonah’s victory party would loosen her up a little, that they’d share a bottle of not-even-close-to-Champagne, and she’d tease him about going grey, and he’d make fun of her full-body clench when Jonah draped his coat around her, and things would…reach a natural conclusion.

But Amy had disappeared, almost without warning, (she had told him, but he’d been so caught up in doing interviews that it hadn’t really registered), and he’d celebrated the evening with a brunettehe’d rescued from Jonah’s Uncle Jeff.it had been…fine. 

She’d texted him the next day, suggesting they “hang out” over Christmas, and though he was back in D.C. by then, he was so frustrated trying not to think of Amy spending the night playing Santa and his naughty elf with Erickson, he was almost tempted to say yes. 

But flying a woman whose name he couldn’t remember down to D.C. for a day or two of sex was too close to hiring an escort for his taste.Even if all of his usual contacts were too busy spending time with their families or pets or whatever to meet up.

He slept in on Christmas Day, ordered Chinese food with an unhealthy amount of carbohydrates, and watched Raiders of the Lost Ark while wearing a Korean sheet mask.In a fit of Christmas spirit or whatever, he accepted a phone call from his mother and listened to a mind-numbing twenty five minute ramble about how lovely Christmas was on the Florida Keys, and how he should definitely come join them next year, and did she tell him they’ve signed up for a cookery class? (If he’d escaped a New York winter his mind would probably be blown too, he supposes).

It definitely didn’t cross his mind to wonder if Amy would consider _this_ a better offer than spending time with her painfully middle-class family or being locked in Bill Erickson’s mediocre sex dungeon.(Christmas the year before, Selina had told them to take a week to rest up ahead of the run into the New Hampshire primary.Predictably, Amy had been ready to snap by 7pm on Christmas Day.She’d been so relieved when he called that evening to suggest they have a strategy brunch the next day she’d almost been nice).

He skims through Amy’s hate texts (she always starts repeating her insults eventually) and sends her a breezy little message reminding her that she sent him twenty-three messages that night in Nevada, so clearly she doesn’t hate him nearly as much as she wants to get on his dick.

She doesn’t respond.

Which maybe he should have expected - it was a pretty dickish thing for him after all - but it’s _weird_ at the same time.Amy has virtually no ability to resist provocation, he ought to know, and the way the message just hangs there in the thread, without even a blue tick, is almost worrying.

When she still hasn’t replied the next morning, he decides he’ll just grab her at Selina’s house, see if he can piss her off more effectively in person, and resolves not to look at their text thread again until he sees her.(He does, of course).

Driving all the way out to Selina’s Maryland house does nothing to improve his mood. She looks...grim, like she’s aged ten years in three days, and she certainly isn’t happy to see any of them.

As though he needed proof that he’s made the right decision in taking the CBS job, the very first thing she says to him is, “Dan, where the fuck is Amy?”

“I don’t -”

“She’s supposed to be here - she said she would talk us through the options - where the fuck is she?”

“Ma’am,” Erickson says, his tone just smug enough to get under Dan’s skin. “Her father had to go in for open heart surgery last night.”

“So?”Selina looks frustrated. “Is she coming or not?”

“It was a sixteen hour operation, and it only finished a couple of hours ago. I told her to take an uber, rather than drive after staying up for that, so I’m sure she’ll be -”

“Why am I hearing this from _you_?” Erickson shrugs, and Selina rounds on Dan. “So, this is why you’ve been in such a piss-boiler of a mood for the last month?”

“That isn’t even -”

“Oh _please_ ,” Selina says, “do you think your ardent desire to fuck Amy until she agrees with you for five whole minutes is some kind of secret? You’re not that smooth.”She looks between Dan and Erickson for a second and shakes her head. “It’s amazing - she has sex maybe once a year, and she still has more drama than I do.”

The temptation to make a joke about Charlie Baird is almost impossible to resist, so Dan studiously looks at the floor, and waits for the moment to pass. He’s already going to piss her off by leaving - there’s no need to make it worse.

Erickson’s smirk on the other hand is a provocation he doesn’t feel like ignoring. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible that he did everything right in New Hampshire - reined in Jonah, won the election, got them days of positive press coverage - and yet somehow Bill Erickson has reaped all the rewards from Amy and Selina and everyone.

It’s bullshit, that’s what it is.

Gary flutters around, serving food no one wants and offering drinks no one is interested in, and Kent and Ben discuss the international response to Montez “saving” Tibet, prompting a four minute storm from Selina that isn’t entirely comprehensible, but contains a graphic description of just how she’s going to use every tariff imaginable to squeeze Chairman Lu in revenge for this latest treachery, just as soon as she’s President again.

Everyone avoids making eye contact.

When Amy does arrive, she looks...she looks odd. She’s wearing jeans, flats and a black sweater,with no make-up, and what’s even stranger...no blow-dry.She looks like one of the exhausted graduate students he sees hanging around the Library of Congress from time to time (give one of them a coffee, and she’ll be yours for life - or at least an evening or two, which is all he’d ever wanted).

She’s brisk in the way that’s usually a sign she’s too tired to function properly, impatient with Gary’s fluttering and Mike’s fumbling attempts to help her connect her laptop to the TV.Eventually, though, she gets it, and talks them through her presentation outlining possible ways forward.

None of the options are good, as she explains.

“I talked to one of Justice Tenny’s clerks.”

“Was it like looking in a mirror?” Bill asks. “He only hires blondes.”

Amy shakes her head at him and continues. “She thinks the Court will do just about anything not to rule on this.It’s a basic principle of the Constitution - the House decides its own rules, no one else is supposed to interfere. So long as the House agrees that the Speaker gets to decide what votes are scheduled, and that they still want him to be Speaker, the Court will claim its hands are tied.”

“They’re going to refuse to make a ruling?” 

“On such an important point... they’d probably have to rule eventually - but she said they’ll drag their feet for as long as they possibly can, give the House a chance to find a way out of the tangle...or even wait until after the midterms, see if we get a new Speaker, one who’s more reasonable.”

“I always said the White House would work best without a President,” Ben says, “I guess now we all get to find out if I was right.”

Selina doesn’t share Ben’s view of the predicament, and she sputters, “Two fucking years, Montez gets to sit her lily white Ohio ass in my seat for two fucking years, and that’s the Supreme Court’s solution to the biggest constitutional crisis since _Watergate_?”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” Amy says, “but I don’t think there’s another way. We need to get someone into the Whip’s Office who knows House procedure and the Jefferson book backwards. The House could, theoretically, vote to change its own rules so the Speaker can’t refuse to schedule an additional vote, and if we get that rule change through, well then we have a chance. But we would need a majority of the House to vote for it, and Marwood’s going to use every trick in every book to prevent even that vote happening. We’ll have to work with the O’Brien campaign - they’ve got to be pissed the fuck off too - and then maybe we can cobble together some kind of coalition.”

“Sherman Tanz and a few others have agreed to continue bankrolling the operation,” Ben says, “with some penny pinching in the Whip’s office, there’s enough to pay for four staffers plus a press person.”

There’s a moment where everyone looks at each other.Someone in the room is out of a job, and in a bizarre turn of events, it isn’t Mike.

“Bill,” Selina finally says, “I know we agreed that I’d offer you a job, but I’m sure you’ll understand that I need to keep my core team with me.”

“The team that’s served you so well this far?” Bill says, and Dan can’t decide if he’s torn between agreeing with him or wanting to punch him.

Fortunately, this time he gets to drop a little bomb of his own. “I came down to tell you in person,” he says, savouring the moment. “I’ve been offered a role at CBS, and I’ve taken it.Of course with our long-standing relationship, I’m happy to offer informal advice, but I will be leaving the team, so if it’s what you want, you can have Bill substitute in and fill my slot.”

“In more ways than one it seems,” Selina says and Amy must be really out of it, because it takes her a second to realise the implications of what Selina’s said.She gives Dan a quick look, but doesn’t say anything, because as always, Selina is barrelling on, arranging the future for everyone and almost sounding decisive. 

“That’s all tidied that up then, I suppose. The team will be Ben in the Whip’s office, Amy liaising with O’Brien campaign since uptight blonde pussy seems to be their catnip, Mike on press, Bill and Kent working the various state delegations.And Gary, of course.”

“About that ma’am,” Ben says with his about to enjoy delivering bad news face on. “There’s no money in the budget for Gary.”

“No money for Gary?” Selina sounds like Ben has just told her she’s going to have to drink from a colostomy bag for the rest of her natural life. “Did you explain that Gary is _essential_?How am I supposed to perform basic bodily functions without a Gary?”

“Oh ma’am,” Gary says, “You don’t need to worry about that, I will be right here, no matter what, I’m not running off to -”

“That’s not the point.You go back to those walking sweat glands, and you tell them to pony up the cash for a minimum wage salary for Gary, at the least, or so help me, I will -”

“Yes ma’am,” Ben says.“I should have the address for our new base of operations by the end of day tomorrow - then we can get to work properly.”

“Right,” Selina says, “First on the agenda is some kind of conference with the O’Brien campaign - the ones Marwood hasn’t managed to buy off yet. Amy?”

“I’ve been talking to them since the Inaugur-wasn’t,” Amy says, “at least some of them are open to collaboration. They know we have a better shot of winning over the public if we present a united front.”

“Okay,” Selina says, “Kent, Bill, you know which state delegations we need to target in the next vote - get on it. I want to find out their actual handles this time, no ‘carry an ugly purse for me’ bullshit.We’ll regroup in two days, assuming Montez hasn’t had the NSA take me out or something before then.”

They all take this as a dismissal, and stand to go...except Amy, who is staring at her phone.She’s still sitting there when Selina stops Dan, to congratulate him on the new role, inform him that she’ll never forgive him for abandoning her at her time of need, and that she’ll miss his evil little brain.

Slightly to his surprise, she seems more composed, calmer than she has been in weeks.Maybe it’s being booted out of the White House that’s done it - the worst has happened, so at long last she can relax. That or there is an even more intense than usual job of emotional repression going on.

He’s not sure which it is, but he’s relieved he’s not going to be around to find out.

Amy’s still sitting down when they’ve finished, and Selina turns on her with an irritated tone. “What are you waiting for, tea and cake? Get the fuck out.”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” she says, scrambling together her purse and laptop and various connected wires, “My Dad threw a blood clot during the surgery, that’s why it took so long, and my Mom was just...updating me on how he’s doing.”

He can see the effort Selina has to make to summon a reaction that seems recognisably human.“Glad to hear it,” she says.“Now get the fuck out of my house.”

She disappears then, into her Gary-built spa chamber or something equally horrifying, and Dan waits to walk Amy out.(He’s not sure why).

“So,” he says, “I guess I owe you a thank you.”

Amy barely spares him a glance, either too tired or too pissed at him to engage. 

“I got the CBS job,” he continues, (because he can’t leave it alone) (and even for him, poking at her about her seriously ill Dad is pushing things). “And if you hadn’t said about Jonah’s campaign, that might never have -”

“Good riddance,” Amy says, still not really looking at him. “If you’re expecting me to congratulate you on running for the hills when we need you, you can take a -”

“We need?” He smiles to himself, just a little, at what he’s about to say. “What about you need?”

“Me?”

“You’re not pissed that I’m leaving Selina’s ragtag group of fuck-ups - you’re pissed that I’m leaving you.”

“You’re imagining things.”

He turns her around then, so she’s facing him. (It strikes him when he looks at her - if she’d ever looked like this when they were on the campaign trail or lobbying, he would have told her to get some sleep on the office couch or the back of the campaign bus, as a practical precaution against her fainting in front of a client or the press).

“Yeah, but I don’t think I am though,” he says. “Why the fuck would I stay, Ames?She’ll only screw me over again eventually and dump me in the career equivalent of the Everglades, you know she will.I’d end up having to do local politics in _Alaska_ or some bullshit.”

“Dan, if there’s one thing I know,” Amy says, staring up at him, her eyes fierce. “It’s that you’ll fuck yourself over a whole lot sooner than Selina ever will.She just doesn’t have the time to dedicate to sabotaging your successes that you do.”

“I’m right and you know it.Everything she touches turns to pitch black noxious sludge - and she’ll do the same thing to you, you’ll see.Your career would be safer if you spent your time prancing around a surgical refuse dump - you should be leaving too.”

“Whatever,” Amy says, stepping away from him, “I’m sure being stared at by every sexually frustrated stay at home Mom in America is your idea of life satisfaction, but some of us have things of actual substance to do.”

“Jealous?” She makes a scoffing noise, and he continues. “Afraid I was going to leave without a goodbye kiss?Erickson not quite doing it for you?”

“Bill isn’t - I am not going to talk to you about -”

“Well in that case, I think I still have your sister’s number somewhere -”

Amy slaps him.

From the look on her face, he’s not sure which of them is more startled.

“Not a fan of that either I see?”

“I hope you enjoy New York - you should fit right in.And with any luck you’ll wake up someday soon in a random hotel room missing a kidney or two and slowly bleeding out.”

“You know what Amy,” he says, in his smuggest tone, “I take it all back. You’ve always been such a cute kid - call me the next time Selina tortures you into a breakdown, and maybe I’ll forgive you.”

“Go fuck yourself Dan.”

She storms away from him then - not exactly a surprise.

What is a surprise is that Erickson had waited for her. 

Out of habit maybe, Dan had just... _assumed_ he would be the one to drive her home. That’s how it usually worked, everyone knew that.

Except Erickson, apparently.

He holds the door open for Amy, giving her his hand to grip while she climbs into his stupid four by four late middle age I’ve failed at life so I need to take up a lot of space on suburban roads car. Amy looks ridiculous even getting into it - she’s completely out of scale.

When he closes the door he turns to look at Dan (so he’d been planning to tap on her window and get the last word, so what?), and grins.

“The Egan magic touch at work, I see,” he says.“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.”

“Does she know you were only fucking her for the pardon?”

Erickson rolls his eyes. “Is that what you’ve been telling yourself?That I needed a _reason_ to fuck the best ass in professional politics?”

“I know you did.”

“Oh,” Erickson says, and smiles at him again. “Well I won’t deny it - it was fun to fuck Selina’s closest aide right out from under her. And pissing you off in the bargain, how could I resist?But there’s something about the noise she makes when she comes, it’s hard to get it out of your head. Of course, you and your incompetent frat boy dick wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Oh whatever,” Dan says, “I’ve had hotter. And younger.”

“Sure you have. But you don’t _want_ hotter and younger, do you? You want the woman sitting in _my_ car, and you’re such a dedicated fuck-up, you somehow missed that all you needed to do to have her - have her adore you so much she can’t even hide it - is treat her like she matters.”

“Please,” he says, “if you’re happy taking my sloppy seconds, good for you - I could have had Amy any time I wanted her.”

“And yet she’s driving away with me.You and Selina, you’re exactly the same, you don’t see the value in loyalty.That girl will do anything - and I do mean _anything_ \- for the man who gives a fuck about her.But, since you’re too dumb to even manage that much, good luck finding a succession of insecure college girls to suck your dick - I’m sure you’ll find them really interesting in the half hour conversation between orgasms.”He pauses for a second, giving Dan a look of what is surely intended to be withering disdain. “When you’re fucking a woman who’s worth more than a minute of effort, you don’t need to be on Twitter every second of the day. Maybe someday you’ll find out what that’s like.”

Before he has a chance to continue the argument, to point out that his social media presence has been instrumental in building his brand, thank you so very much, Bill gets back in the car.

Watching him drive away with Amy does nothing to improve Dan’s mood.Driving back from Maryland is irritating enough without having the memory of that taunting little smile to accompany him.

And maybe he’s a little - just a little - less excited about packing up and planning for New York, without Amy there at his side. (He’d kind of assumed he could talk her into helping him pack his D.C. condo up, could bribe her with pizza and one last strategy talk.He’s only going to New York, after all, it’s not like it’s far.And packing up alone is a miserable task for anyone).

But whatever, if she wants to waste her time on Bill Erickson, why should he try to stop her?It’s not like he’s hurting for female companionship.

It’s a thought he has over and over again in the coming months.CBS have him flitting back and forth between D.C. and New York, covering politics for them one day, the National glee choir competitions the next. Admittedly, he spends more time in D.C. than he’d expected - it seems like House Democrats launch a new attempt to take over House business and change the rules so another vote on the presidency can be scheduled every other week. And the rest of the time they’re doing their level best to torpedo Montez’s nascent legislative agenda (such as it is).

The House gridlock is so serious, even Jonah’s rampant idiocy goes unnoticed. (Dan thinks this may have something to do with the fact that Michelle Yorke, of all people, had taken a job as his Chief of Staff. She hasn’t quite muzzled him, but he at least occasionally manages a speech with more than three semi-coherent sentences in it).

Since he’s in D.C. so often, naturally he texts Amy, suggesting drinks, suggesting lunch, suggesting they get eggs on Sunday morning in her favourite boojee cafe. 

After the third time she ignores him, he stops bothering.

The problem is, it’s a lot harder for _him_ to ignore _her_ than he’d like.

She’s on TV constantly, rattling off talking points and criticising the Montez administration like she was born to do it. She looks sen-fucking-sational too, scaring the shit out of the pissant CNN presenters attempting to take her on, and playing for the audience in a way he didn’t know she was capable of.It’s rage, he knows that, sheer, unbridled fury at the Speaker for interfering with a presidential election, with the media for not calling it out, with the electorate for being so easily fucking manipulated.

Amy wears anger the way other women wear fine perfume - it doesn’t make her more attractive exactly, but it certainly enhances everything that’s already there.

One night he goes for a drink with Ben and Kent in their miserable old boozer, and all three of them watch her appearance on Fox News (only in D.C do bars show political talk shows instead of sports).She effortlessly chews up and spits out every other panellist on the programme, and maybe trying to keep up with Ben had made Dan sentimental, but…

He never knew he could miss someone this much.

Which might be why he calls her that night. Despite being so drunk he was practically liquid, he’d still managed to pick up some Georgetown grad student, and charm his way into her bed.She was probably decently intelligent when she was sober, but he didn’t really care - he just wanted someone to fill the time, and if Amy wasn’t around, well then a self-righteous sociologist would have to do.

Except, of course, that she didn’t.

He slips out of her apartment almost as soon as she’s asleep, and calls Amy as he wanders along a few dark, leafy streets.He rambles to her voicemail for he’s not sure how long - not saying he wants to see her, but not not saying that either.

Naturally he forgets about it entirely the next morning, and it doesn’t come back to him until three or four weeks later, when he runs into her and Erickson at some obnoxious cocktail party.(D.C. is too damn small, that’s the problem, every sexual liaison eventually becomes a game of six degrees of fucking separation).

Amy stumbles through some enquiries about his CBS work, and he gives her his usual line of bullshit on that subject (she doesn’t buy it, but whatever), and then throws out a question or two about her Dad, and it is one of the more humiliating moments of his life.

Amy’s eyes are wide and there’s a blush rising in her face and she clearly hasn’t forgotten that damn voicemail and then Erickson swoops in and says she has to come speak to some pissant donor about why the DNC can’t just roll over on a presidential vote…and she goes.

All in all, he’s very fucking glad when CBS call him a few days later and say they want to try him out on CBS This Morning, for a month or two at least, see if he’s a good fit.

If it will save him another encounter like that, he’s all for it.

Plus, they string him a line about how, with the presidency still in question, they really need _someone_ on the morning show who understands the process, who can make sense of all the procedural fuckery that’s going on.

Dan wants to tell them that he’s met life-long experts in House procedure who can’t do that much, but thinks better of it. 

Admittedly, it’s becoming ever more clear that the House is simply not going to be able to come to any kind of resolution, and in January 2018, the O’Brien and Meyer campaigns announce that they are, officially, taking the Speaker to the Supreme Court.(Not the House as a whole, as that opens up a can of procedural slash constitutional problems no one wants to deal with, but the Speaker as an individual).

His co-host, Jane McCabe, does not like that he’s being treated as the authority on politics (now that the political crisis has become so inescapable they basically _have_ to do a slot on it every morning), and getting Selina to come on and do a live interview doesn’t raise him in her estimation.

He doesn’t know where his magic touch with immediately pre-menopausal women went, because even Selina is pissy with him when they go for breakfast after the recording.Well, she’s pissy with everyone, bitching at Mike and Gary about everything under the sun (her eye make-up, some bullshit politico article, the smell of New York), and complaining that Amy didn’t call her with an update that morning. 

He might loathe Jane, and he might not be sure that broadcast news is where he wants to stay long-term, but he is more than confident that getting the fuck away from Selina was the right thing to do.

Out of habit, he has a message to Amy half-written, asking if she’s like this every day now, or if the news that Tom James’ autobiography, ‘My Struggle,” would be published shortly before the midterms had intensified her usual degree of egocentric rage.He stops himself of course, but… but later that night, he sees her on MSNBC, and figures fuck it.If he wants to text Amy Brookheimer, he’ll text Amy Brookheimer.It’s not as though he gives a shit whether she actually replies or not.

And it’s a not.

But that might be… that might be because Justice Tenney dies.

Which fucks up everything even more, if that’s possible.

Selina immediately declares that no Montez appointee can be allowed to rule on the question - O’Brien disagrees (kind of) (O’Brien’s never exactly had a nuanced understanding of the finer points of the law) - the Senate committee responsible for vetting the nominee descends into entirely predictable chaos - and for some baffling reason, things get so bad in Selina’s team that they send _Kent_ out as their talking head.

He gets an idea why that might be a few weeks later.

One Wednesday evening in April, Amy calls him.

He’s very, very tempted to ignore it - let her twist in the wind the way she deserves - but… but he doesn’t.He can’t.

“Amy,” he says, and he can’t help it, it’s obvious how pleased he is in his voice. 

“I need a favour,” she says, and Dan grins.

“Finally decided to crawl out from under Selina’s thumb, have you?I might have some ideas about -”

“It’s not that,” she says, “We’re gearing up for the midterms, so of course I’m not going anywhere.”  


“Well then what?”

“I have to be in New York on Friday - Selina has to be in New York on Friday, thanks to the Westchester fuck-up, and she insists that I come with her, and…” she takes a deep breath, and Dan hears something ragged in it, something he doesn’t like.“I have to have a procedure done, with a doctor, and I can’t schedule it before then, and it _has_ to be done by the weekend, and…I need you to pick me up and bring me back to my hotel room and not be a complete _shit_ about it.”

“Ames, you got a great rack you really _don’t_ need to -”

“Yeah, that would fall under the heading of complete shit, Dan.Do you really think I _want_ to be calling you?”

“Oh, I think we both know you’ve _wanted_ to call me every day since -”

“Are you going to do it or not?”

“Text me the address and the time, and I’ll be there.”

“ _Thank_ you,” she says, sounding so sincerely grateful he starts to wonder if something is seriously wrong.He doesn’t get time to ask though, because she hangs up, and he’s so busy dealing with the New York Post rumours about him and Jane (which are just abjectly ludicrous) (he knows exactly what it’s like to work with a woman who pisses him off so much it’s a turn-on, and being trampled on by Jane on a daily basis is nothing like it) (and yeah, turns out _reporting_ on a five car political pile-up isn’t anywhere near as satisfying as being in the thick of one).

He has to collect Amy from some West Side clinic and drop her to her hotel near Grand Central…which isn’t his preferred way to spend a Friday evening, but he’s definitely had worse.

She’s clearly still woozy when he arrives, because the moment he walks into the room, she gives him the biggest, soupiest smile. 

“Is this who you’re waiting for?” The nurse maintains a neutral expression, but her tone of voice when she refers to him simply _drips_ with disdain.

“That’s _Dan_ ,” Amy says, and he’d swear she’s happy to see him.

This seems to be enough for the nurse, because she ‘releases’ her into his care, telling both of them (but really him) to call a doctor immediately if there’s any dizziness, fainting spells, sudden bleeding or if Amy develops a high temperature.He’s also supposed to stay with her overnight (which Amy hadn’t mentioned).

Which is kind of fine by him. 

It’s _not_ fine by Amy, and they have a stupid, lengthy argument in the uber about it - that’s so familiar it feels like coming home - because no way in fucking hell is he leaving her alone when qualified medical professionals have told him not to, and she can bitch and sigh all she wants, he’s staying with her.

They go to his apartment first, so he can grab a change of clothes, and have another argument with her about how she’d totally be more comfortable if she just stayed over, rather than the two of them trying to fit into the nine foot square hotel room Selina had booked for her.

She’s too tired to really argue with him, and eventually she gives him her hotel room key, saying she’ll stay the night if he’ll get her things for her, and also maybe something to eat.

It’s more logistics than he feels like dealing with at the end of the week, but he goes.And when he comes back, with her suitcase and toothbrush and indian takeout, Amy’s more…awake, closer to herself.

And weirded out, he can tell, whether by her mysterious ‘procedure’ or seeing him again or having been alone in his apartment, he’s not sure.

So, he asks her about the Westchester fuck-up she’d referred to earlier in the week.

What follows is a dark and unholy tale, involving corruption in a catering business, a high school principal with ambitions well beyond her station, two sets of Yankees season tickets, and the depressing fact that the New York D.C.C. loathes Selina and always has done.(He’s never gotten a satisfying answer on this, and when he presses Amy on it, she just mutters something about Andrew Meyer and an Italian co-del that would be better forgotten for everyone concerned).

The long and short of it is, Selina’s preferred candidate was having to abandon the primary campaign, meaning there would be no primary, meaning the Democratic nominee for this safest of safe seats, was a Meyer-hating enemy of the people (and more pertinently, an enemy of several of the financial services magnates who were currently their chief donor base).

Selina did _not_ want any donations being put at risk, not with so much riding on the midterms, and so she was in New York, looking for someone, _anyone_ who could pull together a committee and 5,000 dollars in donations by the next week.

Since New York is one of the most expensive media markets in the country, and no one likes bankers, there hasn’t exactly been a rush to be the sacrificial lamb (though, needless to say, a left-wing firebrand isn’t the kind of candidate Westchester is used to).

Amy’s a lot happier talking about this - about the various congressional fuck-ups and Furlong’s deeply unnerving attempts to be charming - than anything personal, so he keeps her on the subject for as long as possible.(Well, for that and…another reason).

When he tells her about Jane she laughs so hard water comes out of her nose.It should be repulsive, and yet…he finds himself grinning at her, smiling so widely he can feel it in his cheeks.

For a second, for a whole second, Amy smiles back, but then her face falls, and she says, “I should probably…it’s been a long day.”

He lets her sleep in his bed (he wouldn’t usually sleep on the couch for a woman, but she _did_ just have surgery), and it actually works out kind of perfectly, because it gives him time to work up his pitch.

Convincing Amy to let him come with him when she goes to meet Selina the next morning is no challenge - he has to go through the usual song and dance, but no more.

Getting Selina to talk to him in private is harder, but not impossible - Amy had vanished to take ‘a call’ (from the look on her face, he assumes it’s ‘a call’ from Erickson), and after he’s mentioned the excellent smoothie stand a few blocks away three or four times, she sends Gary out to get one for her.

“So,” she says, once the hotel room door is closed, “What do you want Daniel?”

He gives her his most winning smile.“Amy told me about your problem in the New York 17th.”

“Can you believe it - of all the districts to wind up with a rampaging socialist as a candidate.It’d be fine if it was in one of the mouldier Brooklyn districts, but Westchester?Even if he doesn’t fuck up all our donors, the district is going to vote Republican for the first time in three decades.”

“The thing is ma’am,” he says, “I think I might have a solution for you on that one.”

“Oh really,” Selina says, “Got a candidate up your sleeve who’s willing to upend their entire life in the space of a week?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he says, knowing he can’t seem too eager or she’ll take advantage.“I have someone with local connections and name recognition, who might be convinced to stand if certain assurances were given.”  


“You do,” Selina says, sounding sceptical.“And what assurances would those be?”

“Assistance with donors - in the short term, there’s no point in floating any name without the five thousand dollar minimum, and long-term… New York is an expensive market and this is coming in late.Beyond that, there’ll be some conditions around staffing - nothing you can’t manage, but -”

“Well then who is this paragon?”

“Me.”

“I thought you were from Albany or Auburn or one of those god-awful upstate places everyone likes to pretend doesn’t exist.”

“My Dad moved us to Westchester when I was a teenager - I did my last two years of high school there, so I’m a local boy.My parents still have a house there, even if they don’t live in it.An awful suburban dream house with trees in the front yard.”

“Okay,” Selina says, mulling it over, “And since you’re schtupping Jane McCabe all over the airwaves every morning, you’ve turned into every unfulfilled trophy wife’s favourite brand of catnip, I can see it.When would you have to officially resign?”

“I’ll have to check, but probably…probably not until after the primary.”

“That’s good. And god knows, if that human sausage casing Jonah can be a Congressman there is absolutely no reason you can’t get elected.”

“Why do you think I thought of it?”

They grin at each other for a moment - it’s that same, instinctive understanding that got him hired in the first place.Amy thinks she understands Selina, but she never has, not really, not deep down.She’s always so disappointed when Selina shows her true colours, but Dan’s always known _exactly_ how far she’s willing to go.

“You do know,” Selina says, “this is going to be a pig fight of a campaign, it’s going to be ugly in ways we’ve not known.”

“I’m not worried,” he says, “There aren’t any scandals about me that aren’t already out there.”

“Well we’ll find out,” Selina says, “We’re vetting everyone this time - though I admit, you’ll be pretty far down the list.So, what’s your staffing condition - you can’t have Richard.”

He takes a deep breath - because this, this is the key part, the part that will make it all worth it, and he has to play it _just_ right. 

“Amy.”  


The look Selina gives him is extremely knowing, but all she says is, “You can only have her part time until after the primary, I need her - and that shouldn’t be a problem, anyway, you’ll be a shoe-in unless you, I don’t know, fucked _every_ girl in your high school class - and I’ll still want to borrow her for the occasional day as we get closer in.We’ll be based in New York for the mid-terms, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says, trying to sound indifferent, “She is the best.”

“Erickson is the best,” Selina corrects him, “At least so far.If she throws a hissy fit and dumps your campaign in the dirt, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Amy would never do that to me.”  


Selina laughs.“Fuck about again the way you did before, and I guarantee she will.But that’s your risk to manage, I really couldn’t give a shit.”

They talk a little longer, about timings and introductions and endorsements (she’ll introduce him as a candidate that afternoon, so they need their ducks in a row), and then Amy comes back into the room.

“Bill have any good news?” Selina asks, side-eyeing Dan in a way she thinks is subtle. 

“He wants to talk to you about Florida,” Amy says, “I said you’d call him directly.”

“I’ll get on it,” Selina says, “But in the meantime - meet our candidate for the 17th.”

Dan grins at Amy on cue, not even having to try to maintain it because…fuck yes, he went into this conversation and got _everything_ he wanted.

“Congratulations,” she says, but she looks like she’s trying to swallow three day old horsepiss.

“Thanks,” he says, “And I should also mention - you’re going to be my campaign manager.”

“But…” Amy looks between him and Selina for a moment, and she must realise she has no choice in the matter - that since he’s saving Selina’s skin for her, she’ll give him anything he wants - because all in one breath, she says, “Fuck you you twisted back-stabbing dick-waving hyena.”

“Well,” Selina says, clearly bored now and ready to move on to the next thing.“Sounds like a campaign slogan.”


	7. Chapter Seven

The Monday morning planning meeting is Dan’s favourite part of being on a campaign with Amy.She comes to meet him at CBS, right after he’s finished the broadcast, and they grab eggs or waffles or whatever at the nearest overpriced pseudo-diner before going over the schedule for the week. 

Most political campaigning - the door to door, pressing the flesh, kissing babies stuff - takes place outside of working hours, meaning Dan can complete his shift at CBS (usually around eleven thirty in the morning, or two if he’s unlucky) and head out to the district for four hours or so of campaigning.Plus, as Amy occasionally reminds him, his daily appearances on TV mean that unlike most other two-bit, dick for brains, frat-boy Congressional wannabes, his constituents - or at least two key groups of them, retire es and stay at home moms - have a constant reminder that he exists.

She’d said this in a stream of invective, in the course of which she’d insulted his fake tan job, his taste in sugar-mommies, his last-season suit, and his attempt to conceal his micro-wrists with a watch the size of a small satellite.Dan had just grinned at her and told the truth in the most insulting way possible - he’d really missed her like this.

Anyway, it means Amy generally gives him a schedule of events each Monday morning, trusting him not to dig himself into too many holes between then and Thursday.She coordinated his social media operation from Selina’s office during the week (every single person who looked at youtube, twitter or facebook and lived in the district had seen his face at least three times by now, as well as his promises to raise their whatever the fuck issues in Congress), and then usually joined him on Friday morning to drive to the district for the hard core campaigning.

She’s particularly grumpy this morning, because with her temporary departure from Selina’s team imminent - they were both relocating to Westchester for the last week before the primary - she’s having to hand over to her replacement.Who is, apparently, the insultingly pleasant-spirited Keith Quinn - specifically, the wrong Keith Quinn, as Selina, perhaps due to the effects of menopause, was losing the ability to distinguish between generic middle-aged white men, something she had naturally blamed on Amy.

“It’s like working with Ned fucking Flanders,” Amy grouses, “I cannot believe I’ve been pulled off the most important midterm campaign in history to run a glorified vanity exercise.”

“You’re always in a bad mood when you’ve denied yourself pancakes,” he says, “Besides, from what you’ve told me, she’s one more bad day away from ripping the wings off local pigeons for stress relief.”

He’s not wrong.The news has been fucking horrible.Between Montez receiving a Nobel Peace Prize for Tibet, and Jonah, possibly accidentally, starting a government shutdown, getting the press to concentrate on an abuse of power that was more than a year old was as impossible as expecting them to read the second paragraph of a policy press release.

“Can you imagine - as if we don’t have enough Catherine problems.She keeps telling her how much she’s going to enjoy being a grandmother - because in Catherine’s mind helping and driving into a ‘I can’t accept my own mortality’ psychotic break are the same thing.Literally the only thing she’s in a good mood about is this external consultant Ben’s bringing in to vet all the new candidates, and she won’t tell me why.”

“Well don’t worry about it,” he says, “Soon you’ll be in leafy green Westchester with me, trying not to shock all the prosperous financiers who like to pretend they’re middle-class.”

“I have to,” Amy says, “Because he has to vet _you_ , and given everything I _know_ about, I am not looking forward to whatever he digs up from the Hefner-esque nightmare that is your past.”

“Jealous?” he says, leaning forward with what he knows is a charmingly roguish expression.

“Please. I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with it when the shitstorm inevitably descends, so I’m going to worry about it, Dan.And if I were you, I would be calling every woman I’d fucked over, gaslit, given a nasty case of the clap or bullied into a backstreet abortion, and apologising on bended knee.Some flowers also would not go amiss.”

“I’ve only done, like, two of those,” he says, but it doesn’t placate her.

“I’m fucking serious - even Wilson has had accusations thrown at him in the last month, and I thought he was basically a ken doll with terrible hair.And your Selina’s new pet, so you’re walking around with a giant target on your back.”

“Well how does this sound?” He leans forward, not looking down her blouse (well, not a lot).“I’m really sorry I almost fucked your sister.”

Amy folds her arms across her chest, and glares at him.“Is that it?”When he shrugs, she shakes her head.“No wonder your campaign videos are all sinking like a stone.”

“I am a natural on TV,” he says, stung.

“No,” Amy says, “You’re a natural charming underworked, overprivileged white women -”

“Well you would know.”

She ignores that comment, and continues, “Men hate you - especially men with daughters, surprise sur-fucking-prise - you have to get men like my Dad to vote for you, so you see the scale of the challenge?And black women, black women fucking _hate_ you, which wouldn’t be a problem except they’re the backbone of the Democratic party, so good luck getting anywhere in national politics without their support.”

“Fortunately they’re not a massively important demographic in the New York 17th.”

“If people who vote the way their tax attorneys tell them to decide to give Selina a kicking, yes they areAnd if that’s the best you can do at an apology, I’d actually rather you never spoke to another woman again. So help me, Dan, if you fuck around with some eighteen year old intern, who’s too dumb and too fucking vulnerable to know who she’s dealing with, I will _walk_ , there will be a me shaped hole in the nearest wall in ten seconds flat.”

“Does this have anything to do with that picture of Bill with a bunch of Florida’s finest young minds, by any chance?”

(Erickson was coordinating the target races in the South, and six of them were in Florida, but even so Dan couldn’t think of any possible reason for choosing it as a permanent base of operations - unless you _really_ liked getting campaign volunteers to pose in their bikinis).

He’d expected Amy to huff up in irritation, or tell him he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, or…do something, but she just slumps a little in her seat.

“No,” she says, “It doesn’t.He can do whatever the fuck he wants -”

“Since when are you so accepting of -”

“The difference is, he’s not running for office.Now, I have to go prep the Brady Bunch Dad to run around after Selina and stop her from starting a civil war for shits and giggles. Any questions about the schedule, Kerry in the campaign office should be able to walk you through them, but obviously you have my number.”

“Yep,” he says, wondering if Selina had found staff meetings quite this abrasive, or if Amy just disliked him that much more.“I’ll pick you up on Friday?”

“Yeah,” she says, sighing the sigh of the eternally put upon.

She’s in a better mood than he’d expected when he arrives to collect her - they were going to be staying in his parents’ house until the primary was over, in lieu of spending campaign funds on hotel rooms.(Amy had baulked at this, a little, but relaxed about it when they’d agreed the campaign schedule for that last week).Maybe it’s getting away from Selina, maybe it’s some Friday feeling, but she settled in beside him for the drive comfortably enough, reading twitter while he battled rush hour traffic and passing on bits of political gossip.

It’s just like their lobbying days, minus a brewing scandal over the Mommy Meyer bill, and there’s something about having Amy properly to himself after so long that feels like coming home and the relief of cold water on a hot day all at the same time.She even comes into the gas station to argue with him about snacks, which is such a blast from campaign trails past that he starts teasing her with a packet of chocolate covered pretzels.

“You’re the one dragging me into the land of ‘but it’s only a small trust fund’,” she says, “So you’re paying for the chocolate.”

“I didn’t realise the upper middle classes made you so uncomfortable,” he says, “Is it so different from your father’s blue collar work ethic?Were you the first one to go to college, Amy, is that why you have this chip on your shoulder?”

She rolls her eyes, and says, “Went to college on a golfing scholarship does not get to lecture me about class issues.”

“The funny thing is,” he says, “Round here, I’m the boy from the wrong side of the tracks.”

Amy’s eyes boggle, becoming, if possible, even bigger.

“My Dad was only a tax consultant, never made it to a seven figure salary so… they all think I did really well for myself, considering.”

He says it just mockingly enough that she clearly can’t tell if he’s serious or not - though everything he’s saying is true.In Albany, his Dad had been important - respected - and he’d easily had the best car, the best house, the best everything. 

Westchester was a different story.Moving there had taught him exactly what the word privileged meant, and just how pleasant life would be once he attained that rarefied state.

Amy doesn’t engage further, just launches into a discussion of what, exactly, he should do when he inevitably (she claims) misses the halfway line shot he will be offered when he’s brought out to address voters at the high school basketball game they’re attending that evening.

“Come on, Amy,” he says, “It’s not like I’ve never done this before.”

“Actually, it is.”

“I say ‘aw shucks,’ and make a joke about never scoring in high school either.”

“Okay, one,” she says, “You have never successfully made a self-deprecating joke in your entire life, so that’s not going to work. No one’s going to believe it for a second.”

“Well then what do you suggest?”

“Roll up your sleeves, so all the moms can swoon over your forearms or whatever, tell them you’re not a quitter and say you want best out of three.”

“All right,” he says, grudgingly. “That is better.”

Talking in the car is the one quiet moment they have the entire weekend - Amy having rammed the schedule as much as humanly possible.He doesn’t quite get why - there’s no way in hell Westchester’s going to vote for an ‘eat the rich’ candidate, not when the scholarship boy made good is running… but she’s clearly worrying about something.Every second they’re not at an event, or pressingly party bigwig flesh, she has him out knocking on doors or leafleting in the local mall (so long as he didn’t take too many photos with girls of barely voting age).

She’s also insisted that he’s not to wear a suit jacket if he can possibly avoid it, needing to make the most of his ‘youth’ (he pretends not to hear the inverted commas she’s clearly putting around the word) in comparison to their almost retirement age opponent.She even lets him wear jeans.

He puts up with it, partly because being out on the campaign trail has made him realise…he’s not even as good at Selina at being ‘folksy’ and he always thought she was terrible at it.

Besides, he gets a little payback of his own.

Amy was trying to hit the youthful insurgency angle as much as possible, so everyone she hired in the campaign office, and as many of the volunteers as she could manage, was under thirty.

Right around the time she started telling him to take off his tie, he’d had it out with her about _her_ image, and how it reflected on him. 

She’d been nothing but black and grey and navy blue for weeks on end, long sleeves and high necklines and…it was like all the colour had been drained right out of her.Or maybe colours were only for TV, he wasn’t sure.

Anyway, the one night they got back to his parent’s house before eleven, they’d had a…what people in the business would describe as a frank and constructive exchange of views on the subject. 

When he’d started listing off his favourite outfits of hers over the years - ones that would make a good impression on their voters - Amy had stared at him wide-eyed, before finally bursting into laughter.“How the fuck do you remember all of that?” she said.“Just how many creepshots of me did Jonah send you?”

He rolls his eyes, and says, “I was effectively comms director -”

“Deputy.”

“Whatever - I did pay attention to how the team looked behind Selina you know.”

“Fine,” she said, “Jesus christ, I’d no idea you had such strong opinions on the matter.”

“Well I’d prefer it not to look as though the angel of death is running my campaign, yeah.”

“So what,” she’d said, looking away from him, “Do you have a list of colours or something?And if you think I’m wearing stiletto heels while following you around all day you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Come to CBS some morning when I’m finished - I’ll have the wardrobe girl pull you some options.”

“That would be an illegal campaign donation,” Amy says, “So, no.”

“Then ask Gary,” he says, “I don’t give a shit.”  


“No,” she says, “A shit is exactly what you give - apparently several of them.”

“Just…make sure you buy something pink,” he says, “We want everyone to think how adorable it is that I let you boss me around all the time, so you need to look girly.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but that weekend she showed up in Westchester in a fucking floral, followed in the weeks after by an array of pastels and what Gary used to describe as jewel tones.She even wore a bright red dress and fuck me heels to a donor event in the city, though she’s so busy running between him and Selina that he doesn’t get much time to appreciate it.

They win the primary, of course, but not by nearly as much as he’d expected.

Still, it means he gets to make a farewell broadcast on CBS and get away from Jane McCabe, so he’ll call it a win.

They both relocate to Westchester, though now that it’s long-term, Amy insists on getting a hotel room. He has a feeling it might have something to do with the time he’d walked in on her getting a late night snack - they’d wound up watching Colbert together, until Amy, in her college pyjamas, practically fell asleep on his shoulder. (He had been so, _so_ tempted to make a move, but Selina’s warning still rang in his ears… so he’d let her lean on him for as long as she liked, pretended to be asleep when she woke up, and then fucked Brie extra hard when he went back to the city on the Monday).

Erickson hasn’t been calling her, he knows that much.

She doesn’t talk about it - clams up every time he so much as eludes to her…boyfriend or whatever the fuck Erickson was - and eventually he’d learned to let it go.

The primary over and done with, Amy’s main focus is gearing him up for the real campaign (even if Westchester hasn’t voted Republican since she was in single digits, she’s still not leaving anything to chance).She even insists that he book a holiday for two weeks in August - it’s practically dead time on the campaign, and he needs to come back looking rested and tanned and healthy, so his freckles don’t stand out so much in the campaign posters and make him look like he has a weird form of measles.

Three weeks after the primary, they have a visitation.

Ben had been making noises about vetting for weeks, but given the horde of freaks they’d convinced to run in Texas, Dan knew he was way down the list.

It’s only one day when they’re walking back to the campaign office, arguing about whether to make an Egan pun in his campaign slogan, when Amy suddenly says, “Fuck me, that’s Malcolm Tucker,” that he realises something just might be up.

“Another ex-boyfriend of yours I should be worried about?”

She rolls her eyes without actually looking at him, staring through their office window like she’s looking at a cobra.“You have a very shallow reference pool when it comes to politics, you know that?He was the enforcer for two different Prime Ministers - he knifed his own party leader in the back, and the party let him.”

“What do you expect,” he says, “He’s English, their politics are batshit.”

“Okay,” she says, “Lesson one - don’t ever call him English, unless you’ve developed a desire to be permanently parted from your scrotum.I cannot _believe_ \- don’t go in yet, I want to check this out.”

She takes out her phone and calls Ben, not even bothering to say hello.“Malcolm Tucker?Malcolm knife you in the brain stem Tucker?He’s fucking toxic - the party he got into government three times won’t even touch him, if it gets out that he’s our super-powered consultant, we’re going to drown in the most rancid shit since the last time O’Brien ate a curry.”

Whatever Ben says, she’s only mildly placated, because what she says is, “At least tell me Jamie the walking rage stroke isn’t with him, because I don’t want to have to handle it if he accidentally batters one of our volunteers into a brain haemorrhage with a hole punch.”

She hangs up, and Dan realises…she’s nervous.

“You’ve met him before, haven’t you?”

“Not exactly,” she says, “You know I interned in London one summer, well…he had some dealings with the MP I was working for.It got a little ugly - but I was only a bystander.”

You’d never know it by the way Tucker greets her, standing up and holding his arms wide, “Amy fucking Brookheimer,” he says, “I always knew you’d go far, and now look at you.Head bottle washer for the leader of what passes for the free world.”

“Well,” she says, “At the moment I’m wearing a different hat.This is Dan.”

“Ah yes,” Malcolm says, “The man of the hour. Don’t worry, I only maim when specifically requested.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Dan says, holding out his hand to shake.“Ben Cafferty speaks very highly of you.”

Malcolm’s face contorts in a way that maybe indicates amusement. “I have too much faith in Ben’s brand of shitheadery to believe that for one second.”He eyes Dan for a moment, and then turns to Amy. “He’s less metallic than Dan Miller, I’ll say that for him -”

“Dan Miller?”

“The MP I interned for,” Amy says, “and you should know who he is.”

“The Leader of her Majesty’s Opposition and so robotic he shits cubes,” Malcolm says, “Still some of your party’s merry brand of fuck-ups could stand to learn a little from how he operates. Now do you want to do this in front of the entire office, or have you got somewhere private?”

Dan’s tempted to say he has nothing to hide, of course Malcolm can review whatever dossier he’s created in front of the volunteers, but Amy cuts her eyes at him, so he can’t.

They settle down in the back office, which naturally takes longer than he’d expected. Kerry helps Malcolm get his laptop connected to the screen and then hangs around, hopefully, as though they might include her in the discussion. (Her eagerness reminds him of Amy, way back when he first met her, in Ohio, in the best way. She practically shines with ambition).

Malcolm dismisses her with a curt, “off you fuck.”

She looks so crestfallen Dan’s tempted to take a picture.

“Now,” Malcolm says, “Ben’s asked me to look into where all the bodies are buried, since none of your party hacks are capable of managing a crisis situation.”

“That’s a little unfair,” Amy says, “We’ve dealt with a lot of -”

“Selina Meyer couldn’t even beat O’Brien,” Malcolm says, “And that wankgizzard can’t even drool and shit at the same time.You needed someone who can fight dirty.”  


“Everyone knows how dirty you fight,” Amy says, “I’d rather not drag the mentally deranged into the campaign if we can possibly manage it.”

“Shouldn’t have run Meyer then,” Malcolm says, and Amy looks enraged.“Now, I personally couldn’t give a fuck what happens to any of you, but every time your country elects a fucking Cyclops to the Presidency, it’s the rest of the world that suffers the consequences, so consider this me doing my little part to ensure we don’t get dragged into yet another Yankee Doodle fuck-up.”

“Selina would never -”

“Start a war because someone pissed on her shoes?Don’t make me laugh sweetheart, she’s more bloodthirsty than half the Labour party backbench.”

“Yes, but to quote you, half the Labour party backbench can’t be trusted to make a cup of tea without burning a building down, so they’re not exactly the benchmark for political stability.”

Malcolm genuinely smiles then, and says, “I always liked you, you know that?You smashed Ollie Reeder’s child ego in six syllables and didn’t even realise it.”

Amy looked startled.“The wispy guy from DoSac?He looked like he’d fall over if I flicked him with a pen."  
  
“He’s Dan Miller’s right hand man now,” Malcolm says, “Terrible what people will do to make up for their deep-seated personal inadequacies, isn’t it?Anyway, you can relax, I haven’t been able to dig up anything too appalling on your candidate.”

“That seems unlikely,” she says, and Dan rolls his eyes at her.

“There were only two points I thought you might need to have a line on,” Malcolm says, “First of all, there’s this.”It’s a picture of him with Catherine and Marjorie, outside the fertility clinic.“Candidate enters into a menage a fucking trois with the former First Daughter and her set square not-wife, that’s going to be a hard one to spin.”

“Please,” Dan says, obscurely irritated, “If I was joining a throuple, I could do better than that.They needed a sperm donor.”

“What?” Amy looks appalled, “So the pregnancy Catherine won’t shut the fuck up about is _yours_?”

“No,” he says, “They must have found someone else.”

“Don’t tell me you developed scruples?”

“Turns out I can’t get anyone pregnant,” he says.

There’s a moment where Amy looks uncomfortable - like she’s not sure whether to sympathise or congratulate him - but then Malcolm switches to another picture, saying, “That casts this in an interesting light, now doesn’t it?”

It’s him and Amy outside the Planned Parenthood clinic he’d picked her up from, after that mysterious procedure of hers.

“How did you get this?”

“New York tabloids are fucking pathetic,” Malcolm says, “It wasn’t hard.Now whatever about Catherine Meyer, if you knocked up your now campaign manager, that’s going to be a problem.”

“Well he didn’t,” Amy says, gesturing to her stomach.“Obviously I’m not pregnant.”

“But you were,” Malcolm says, “Don’t think you can fool me, I’ve handled people a lot more psychopathic than you.”

“Fine you fucking Glasgow ghoul,” Amy says, “I was.”

“And what the two of you decided to have a nice little Friday evening abortion before announcing his candidacy, is that it? Because that’s not a good look."  


“You don't think it was mine,” Dan says, “Because she’s barely spoken to me for the last year, let alone -”

“Well why the fuck were you the one at the abortion clinic then?”

Amy stands, pushes her chair back and then stops - as though she’s only just realised the room is tiny and she has no where to go.“It wasn’t an abortion,” she says.“And it had nothing to do with him.”

“Well then what are we dealing with?” Malcolm’s tone softens slightly.“Better you have to tell me than some fuck from Fox News darling.”

She sits back down, looking at her hands.“I…I had a miscarriage.It’s not like I was trying to get pregnant - I’d started the pill - so I was still deciding what to do, and then I wasn’t.”

“And the clinic visit was?”

He can tell she’s hating this, having to spill something so intimate to someone she barely knows, “I had to have a procedure done - make sure everything was - if there’s anything left it can cause an infection, so - and then Selina insisted on going to New York that day, and they said I had to be picked up, and…Dan was the only person I knew, so…”

“Where was the fucking father,” Malcolm says, “What kind of shithead leaves you to manage this yourself exactly?”

“Yeah, I’d like to know that too,” Dan says, “Even I’m not that fucking cold.”

“Since when?And I didn’t want him there,” Amy says, finally looking up and glowering at them both.“He would have just - it was already a shitty day, and he would have made it worse.”

“So you went running to your ex?” Malcolm says, “Isn’t that a little -”

“Dan’s not my ex!”  


“D.C. gossip says different.”

“We went on three dates,” Amy says, insistent, “And that was years ago.I’ve had more meaningful relationships with manicurists.”

“And yet you never asked one of them to collect you from a clinic,” Malcolm said, “But you did ask him, not the father of the -”

“Because he was _glad_ ,” she says, sounding furious.“I told him about the miscarriage and he was fucking…relieved _-_ when we found out he said he’d ‘support me’ and we’d figure out what to do together, and then the second I told him it had happened, told him it had happened and I was in pain, he was fucking…delighted, glad that he wasn’t going to be stuck with me for - going in for that appointment was already going to be nothing but relentlessly shitty, so forgive me if I didn’t want to look at his pleased face the entire time. And Dan wasn’t even running then, so… somehow I didn’t think it would bother him if people did think he’d forced me to have an abortion, since he only has the measurable conscience of an anti-social sting ray.”

She’s angry, but the kind of anger that’s more distress, that’s pain masquerading as something else, so she won’t feel it. 

He can’t pretend he’s sorry she’s seen the error of her ways when it comes to Bill Erickson, but he at least has the sense not to show it.Whatever feelings he’d tricked her into developing, while obviously they didn’t hold a candle to her feelings for Dan, he’d still managed to hurt them.

He’s never _really_ liked seeing Amy try to put up a bristling front, trying to seem indifferent to something that had clearly left a bruise even if she’d never admit it - but he likes it even less when Bill Twatting Erickson is the cause.

“All right pet,” Malcolm says, sounding more human than Dan would expect from someone with a three decade career in politics.“See, that’s not so bad.He’s already talked a lot about what good friends you are in interviews - if it comes up, you turned to your old pal when your wanker boyfriend let you down, people will like that, it makes him look good.”  


Dan grimaces, because he doesn’t like what he’s about to say.“We can’t call him her wanker boyfriend.He works for Selina.”

“Jesus,” Malcolm says, “You lot are more incestuous than Westminster, I didn’t even think that was possible.Who is it, not that human receding hairline in Florida?”

“I…don’t know,” Amy says, “You’ll need to be more specific, it’s politics.”

“Very funny,” Malcolm says, “If it’s the one I’m thinking of, he looks like someone accidentally transplanted a mildly functioning brain into a rugby player’s head, and he’s at least a fucking decade too old for you.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, trying (and failing) to hide his annoyance.“That’s him.”

“Word of advice, not that I give a shit,” Malcolm says, “Put a stop to that nonsense as soon as you can rap him on the head with a hammer, you’ll be better off.”

“He says he wants to get married,” Amy says, staring at Malcolm like she’s never seen him before.

“I bet he does,” Malcolm says, “I bet he practically does a wank of joy every time he gets to say he has a thirty year old blonde who doesn’t know any better for a girlfriend. You’ve said no.”

“I…” Amysighs.“I said we’d talk about it after the election - everything’s so unstable now, I don’t -”

“You’re not in a fucking war,” Malcolm says, “If you need five months to work out whether to say yes or not, I think you already know what your answer needs to be.”  


“Too fucking right,” Dan says, “You are not going to marry -”

“Don’t you start,” Amy says, “You lost the right to have _any_ opinion on who I do anything with when you - never fucking mind.Malcolm are those the only weak spots you could find?”  


“Yeah,” Tucker says, “Which is a fucking relief, I don’t mind telling you.The file on that twatweasel Ryan and the Tanz family is thicker than a footnoted translation of the bible.”

“You know he faked his cancer?” Dan says. “I mean he did have it, but he kept shaving his head for, oh, eight months afterwards, to keep the sympathy going.”

Malcolm just sighs.

“Before you go,” Amy says, “I was wondering if I could get you to look at something else for me?With your media hat on?”

“Sure,” Malcolm says, “Why the fuck not, I’m feeling nostalgic.”

Amy uses his laptop to play four of Dan’s campaign spots on the screen.She doesn’t say anything, clearly wanting to get Malcolm’s untainted opinion.If his expression is anything to go by, he’s not impressed.

“Yeah,” he says when they’re finished.“I see the problem.”

“What,” Dan says, piqued.He’d gotten his teeth done two days before filming.“I look good.”

“No,” Malcolm says, “You look like the kind of man who dumps women’s bodies under a fucking bridge - or, scratch that, one body under multiple bridges.”

“Just because men are threatened because I have a magic touch with -”

“They’re not worried about your magic touch, they’re worried that you’re a serial killer and their sister might be next.” 

“Our vote share is down among black women and white men,” Amy says.

“I’m not fucking surprised,” Malcolm says, “At the least you need someone to fix those fucking demonic eyebrows before you put him out on camera.”  


“My eyebrows are fine,” Dan says, unwilling to accept grooming advice from a man with electric shock hair and a pulsing vein in his forehead.

“You look at the camera like it’s a woman in bar who’s had one drink too many and who you might be able to convince to make the mistake of going home with you,” Malcolm says, “And it probably works for with the substantial ‘husband-doesn’t-know-where-her-clit-is’ demographic - but everyone else sees a fucking predator.”

“Yeah,” Amy says, “That’s what I thought.”

“It worked for you.”

“It worked once,” she says, “And I rapidly came to regret the error of my ways - not to mention the earrings I left behind.Did you keep them in some fucking shrine, with strands of my hair and a sample of my perfume?”

“Don’t be fucking gross,” he says, “I would never settle for anything less than your underwear.”

“Dream the fuck on, Dan,” she says, “That’s the kind of present you have to _earn_.”

He wants to be pissed off at her, but he can’t help it - he just laughs.“My campaign manager,” he says to Malcolm, “A perfect sweetheart, but what a fucking mouth she has on her.”

“Yeah,” Malcolm says, looking thoughtful.“I think I have a fix for your problem.”

“Well I’m all ears,” Amy says, “Anything that makes him look like a human.”

“When you’re filming,” he says, “Don’t look at the camera like you’re trying to win it over.Imagine you’re talking to the one person in the world you actually like.”  


“Yeah, see, the problem there is… that person doesn’t exist,” Amy says, still sounding gleeful.“Unless you want him to look into a giant mirror.”

“Who are you trying to fool?His fucking pupils turn into little love hearts every time he looks at you.Now maybe you’re both too terminally immature to admit it, but that’s the kind of look people vote for - so use it.If he’s looking at you while he films maybe he’ll stop the transparently evil soap villain performance.”

Amy’s mouth hangs open for a second, reminding him of Jonah, but all she says is, “We’ll take that under advisement.”

“Fine by me,” Malcolm says, “It’s not like I’m the only person in the room who’s actually won an election or anything.”

They talk some more about how to spin the ‘abortion clinic’ story if it gets out - Malcolm still leaning towards the story of Dan stepping up when a shithead boyfriend wouldn’t - Dan is a candidate and Erickson isn’t, so it’s obvious who they should throw under the bus if a sacrifice becomes necessary - and then, since Dan has to go door-knocking, they agree to meet for dinner in one of the quieter local restaurants.(He thinks this is because Amy is still nervous about them being seen too much with Malcolm, which is ridiculous, since Westchester residents care more about tax rates and the appearance of social liberalism than some poorly paid nurse being fucked over an entire ocean away).

He actually enjoys door-knocking, for the most part - he gets to flex his charm muscles, and Amy makes sure to whisk him on after no more than four minutes, so it all kind of works out.He gets more questions about Jane McCabe than he’d like, but having a tiny blonde constantly telling him what to do seems to help put that story to bed, so he hams it up as much as possible, referring to Amy as ‘the boss’ at every opportunity.

It helps that, since the minuscule lunatic left fringe was disappointed in his candidacy, they’ve united (well, as much as the left is ever united) behind an actual Communist and were trying to push her as a serious candidate.Despite the fact that she - literally - went to clown college (well, she specialised in comedia dell’arte while doing the same contemporary dance course Catherine Meyer would conspicuously fail at years later, but it comes to the same thing), the social media warriors are desperately trying to make her seem like a threat.

If anything, it’s helpful.It makes him look even more moderate and reasonable - and it galvanises those democrats who traditionally can’t be bothered to vote in the district, since no fucking way are they letting a spoiler campaign swing the seat to the Republicans.

Dinner with Malcolm is invigorating - when he’s relaxed, off the leash a little, Dan can suddenly see why Amy had been intimidated by him.So long as they don’t poke at the circumstances of his downfall, he’s happy to talk about all his experiences in Downing Street, how he convinced Tom Davis to call a snap election, how Nicola Murray had panic attacks every time she got into a lift.He was at the heart of every political fuck-up in the UK over the last two decades, and it shows.

He’s refreshingly open, and he’s shrewd enough to give them a number of intelligent tips on how to manage the campaign, even if he’s never run one in the States himself.

The summer is pleasantly calm - they rerecord all his campaign spots, take some excellent photos (if he does say so himself) for posters, and visit every old folks home and church in the district.

Since he’s always been only mildly better than Amy at taking a holiday, he talks her down from the insistence that he take two full weeks.Instead, he borrows a beach house in Long Island from a college buddy for a week, drags Amy there with him, and the two of them tour the more exclusive golf clubs.She sits in the clubhouse, coordinating with the campaign team and occasionally conferencing with Selina, while he plays as many rounds as are necessary to schmooze with valuable donors in the finance and pharmaceutical industries. In the evenings, he invites over various connections he’s made over the last ten years, buddies from college and D.C. he hasn’t burned yet and New York state bigwigs, offers them beer and barbecue, and makes whatever offers he needs to make to ensure their support.(Obviously the barbecue is catered).

Amy mostly lets him handle it alone - she’s always loathed begging for money - wearing pretty little sundresses and even a pair of tight denim shorts on one occasion, so she’s a nicely decorative addition to the scene.She steps in only whenever someone, bafflingly, asks him a knotty policy question, giving responses that make him seem like he’s thought deeply about the issues.

It’s the closest she’s come to seeming rested in years.

The shorts have to be the most distracting item of clothing he’s seen a woman wear since he was a teenager, and under any other circumstances he would definitely have tried to fuck her already.He tells himself it’s because of what Selina said that he hasn’t - that he can’t take the risk of his campaign manager fucking off for vaguely sex related reasons… but the truth is…

The truth is, if he’s going to fuck Amy, he’d quite like her to stick around afterwards - so they could do it more than once, and so… and so…well he’s not sure what, but he doesn’t want to piss her off again and send her running all the way back to Bill Erickson.And he might think it’s ridiculous, but there’s no getting around the fact that Amy is… _volatile_ about sex - she’s not going to sleep with him on a whim, it would only happen if she’d decided not to be mad at him anymore.But he’d rank the chances of his doing something else to piss her off - probably almost immediately afterwards - as pretty high.

There are just too many variables. 

When they’re back in D.C. - when he’s officially a congressman and Selina is maybe back in the White House and Amy’s settled into whatever new office she gets, well then…then things will be different.

However much it may irritate him that Amy’s so damn sensitive about sex, there’s no getting around the fact that she is, so he has to wait, little though he may like it.

Thank fuck for Brie.

Close by, disconnected from politics and the campaign, and totally uninterested in anything he has to offer that isn’t his dick.

Of course, once they get into late September, he’s going to be too busy to see her, (usually they hooked up on the evenings he came into the city to meet donors - Amy was generally running off to check in with Selina, so he didn’t think she’d noticed.She was always too riled up about Keith Quinn and whatever his latest transgression was to pay attention to much of anything else).

Once their Long Island week is done, he takes a week in a Mexican resort - visiting the spa on a daily basis, swimming, skyping with Amy twice a day, and resisting the urge to fuck around with the women at the hotel bar.There was no knowing who they were back in the States, and it wasn’t worth the risk of a tell-all.

They dive straight back into campaigning on his first day back - Amy bringing him to a brunch with the local DAR. He gives a speech - makes a suitable number of vaguely risqué jokes - and then the two of them put their heads together over eggs.

The midterms campaign has been going suspiciously well - almost no fuck-ups in crucial districts, voter registration well up on previous years, O’Brien saying usefully obnoxious things at regular intervals.

One of the old dears who runs the organisation pulls Amy away, saying she simply has to introduce her to someone or other, Dan couldn’t give a fuck. 

Her phone rings six times while she’s gone, and finally, distracted by the way it keeps lighting up, he answers. “Hello,” he says, “Amy’s phone.”

“Oh, is that - is that Dan?”

It’s Mrs Brookheimer, and Dan grins to himself for a moment - she’s always liked him - and says, “Yes, Mrs Brookheimer, how nice to speak to you again.”

“How is the campaign going?Amy doesn’t tell us much.”

“Oh, she’s doing an excellent job - as soon as I found out I’d be running, I knew she was the only person I’d ever want to run my campaign.”

“Well you two have always had such a special relationship,” she says. “Do you think - would it be too distracting if her father and I came up this weekend?”

Yes. Obviously.

“I think Amy would just feel guilty,” he says, lying without scruple. “She would be distracted, I think, not able to pay as much attention to you as she’d like.”

“Of course,” her mother says, “We wouldn’t want to pull her away from the campaign, it’s just...it’sAmy’s birthday this weekend, and we were hoping to celebrate -”

“Oh,” he says, a plan for how he can take advantage of the situation forming in his brain already. “ Don’t worry about that, I’ll make sure we mark the occasion.”

“Thank you, Dan - after the year she’s had, I’m so glad she has someone who’ll spoil her a little.” 

He supposes this is a reference to Bill Erickson and the miscarriage - though it’s hard to imagine Amy would tell her parents about that - and so he makes some soothing noises and hangs up.

When Amy comes back, he’s all geared up to tease her about how he practiced his white lady charms on her mother, but she freaks when he says there were six missed calls.

“Six - was it just my Mom, or was Sophie too, or -”

“Relax,” he says, giving into the impulse to put his hand on her shoulder.“I talked to her.She just wanted to say happy birthday.”

Amy sags in relief - maybe she worries more about these things now, since her Dad’s last heart attack - and a moment later says, “Why were you answering my phone?”

The conversation degenerates from there.But it does give him an idea, and he colludes with Kerry to pull it off without Amy knowing.They’re attending an activist gathering that weekend - showing some love to the array of volunteers who’ll be cold-calling and door-knocking and driving people to the polls - and between them, they stage a little celebration.

Pausing at the end of his speech to thank his campaign manager and have a giant sheet cake wheeled out so she can blow out some candles is exactly the kind of humanising detail that blows the fuck up on their instagram account.Wonkette even do a short story on it - he knows it’s because it’s a slow news day, but he’ll take the political exposure any day of the week.

Amy rolls her eyes at him - knowing exactly how good this little gesture is going to make him look - or rather, she gives him a look that’s the equivalent of an eyeroll, but which no one but him would ever understand.

She thanks him very prettily, of course - him and Kerry (who has a crush on Amy approximately the size of Montana, not that she’s noticed) - and doesn’t even explode at one of the volunteers when they snap a photo of him smoothing a smear of frosting off her lip with his thumb.In fact, in the half-second before she realises a photo has been taken, he’d swear she smiles at him - not a campaign grin, but a shy, sweet  kind of look, one he hasn’t seen since Nevada.

Of course a scandal then breaks about Andrew Meyer - not a particularly interesting one, involving more numbers than sex, which is never going to hold the media’s attention, but sufficiently serious that they have to work out what his response is going to be. 

Fortunately, Andrew disappears at sea three days later, and the entire political class is so bound up in performing the rituals of decorum, of issuing their condolences to his distressed ex-wife and bereaved daughter, of pushing to the front of the queue to show the utmost respect and sympathyin a time of grief, that the tricky problem of how Dan can define himself as separate from Selina, without appearing to throw her under the bus, can go unsolved for a little while longer.

He’s tempted to send Selina a bottle of champagne, instead of flowers - she’d certainly appreciate the gesture - but accepts that if it ever got out, the political press would feel obligated to claim it was inappropriate. 

A day or two later Amy tells him she called Selina personally to say how sorry she was - which is hilarious, because Amy hated Andrew more than anyone who isn’t Gary - but that Selina was being weird about it, asking lots of rambling, disconnected questions, wanting to know if Andrew had ever convinced Amy to invest in his ‘business’ or if Amy knew anything about Keith Quinn and his connections or if she thought Catherine would insist on naming her soon-to-be-born son after her father.Admittedly, even when Amy tries to explain Dan’s not sure what weird really means - Selina’s baseline for human interaction is already odd by most people’s standards anyway - but maybe grief has messed with her brain.He’s heard that’s a thing that can happen.

The remaining weeks of the campaign run pretty damn smoothly, he’s pleased to say.

He shines in the debate, not that it’s hard when his Leninist opponent, in some attempt to own the constant jokes at her expense, shows up wearing a literal clown wig.As for the Republican, their candidate is as exact a replica of Mr Burns as it’s possible for a human to be, right down to wearing a moleskin waistcoat and occasionally smoking a pipe.

When the fire alarm goes off in the middle of the debate, and the moderator has no idea what to do, he sees his chance - giving a short speech that keeps everyone calm, and even makes a few people laugh.

He’s so confident that they’re going to win it, he tells Amy to wear something nice on election day, since they’re going to be on TV.

And for once in her life, she cooperates, showing up on the day in a beautifully tight sheath dress the precise colour of the summer sky.It makes her eyes more brilliant, the deep blue making them pop even more than usual.

They’re going to look so great on screen together.

Polls close at 9pm, but they’re expecting to have the result before midnight. Much to his irritation, Amy had agreed to leave once it was announced to go spend the evening with Selina in the city, holding her hand and preventing her from overdosing on valium or crystal meth while the midterm results came rolling in. 

He had considered whether to make a point of it, to demand that his campaign manager be at his side for the whole evening, you know, the way she would be if he was any other candidate in the race…but Amy’s loyalty to Selina was only an inch short of terrifying, so once he finds out Erickson is staying safely in Florida for the night, he figures it’s not worth making a fight out of it.

It’s a great day - he votes and posts on twitter and instagram about it, does a quick interview with the evening news, and spends the morning in the spa, getting a facial, a manicure and having his eyebrows threaded.

When he shows up at the count centre, with his new suit, red tie and America flag pin, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and grins.He practically _gleams._

The result is basically a foregone conclusion, but while they’re waiting he has a word with the CBS crew who’ve come to film the announcement.CBS This Morning apparently want to do a quick feature on his victory, since he’s an…alumni of the show.He remembers the cameraman, and has a quick conversation with him, promising that they want to film the entire speech - there will be a moment they’ll definitely want to broadcast.

Thanks, no doubt, to his supernatural charisma, they actually manage to get the vote share back up to what it was in the nineties - a full eighty-eight percent of the vote. 

Remembering Tucker’s comments, he resists the urge to smirk, and remembers instead Amy high-fiving him when they were told the results as he stares down the camera and delivers his victory speech. 

He’s very aware that she’s only a few feet behind him while he speaks - thanking the volunteers, pretending to be honoured at being chosen to serve, promising to represent the voters and do his part to make sure they take back the presidency and put an end to the Speaker’s obstruction once and for all.

And then, after getting everyone stirred up and enthusiastic, he adds a coda, a final thought to send them off with a smile on their face (and, while it’s not even close to being the main reason, to piss Erickson the fuck off).

“There’s one last person I need to thank,” he says. “My campaign manager.We first met, way back on the first campaign I ever worked, and she’s the one who convinced me to run.As long as we’ve known each other, as long as we’ve worked together, she’s influenced me to work harder, to fight more, to be a standard bearer for our party and never compromise, never give in, not when so much is at stake.She’s my best friend, and if she wasn’t in my life, I know I wouldn’t be standing here in front of you today, accepting the greatest honour of my life.And together, we are going back to Washington, and we are going to shake things up!”

There’s an immense cheer, the balloons drop, the music starts and he catches Amy’s eye.She smiles - she can’t help herself, she’s radiant - even though she knows exactly what he was doing.

It takes all of five seconds and three steps to pull her up against his chest and kiss her full on the mouth.

Amy mustn’t have realised what he was going to do, because she gives this little gasp, a half-breath at most, right before their mouths meet, but her surprise doesn’t last because she kisses him back, her hands sliding up, over his shoulders and chest, pressing herself even closer to him, her mouth moving so sweetly against his it’s downright intoxicating.

He bends her back, just a little, and he feels her respond, something that might be almost a laugh bubbling up in her chest.

He has to break away from her, of course - can’t prolong things too much or the footage won’t be suitable for broadcast news (which is a shame, because even the faint taste of her he gets makes him want to drag her to the nearest closet).

He presses his forehead against hers, meeting her eyes for a second or two.Her expression is energised, and yet also somehow wry, a twist in her mouth that lets him know she’s on to him, even if she wants him to kiss her again anyway.

“Congratulations Congressman,” she says, and that’s it - he _is_ dragging her to the nearest closet, they can thank the donors later.

“Behave Brookheimer,” he says, and grabs her hand, pulling her with him as he makes his way through the crowd, shaking hands and saying thank you to the massive line of well-wishers.

It takes eight intolerable minutes, but eventually he gets her into the green room, the two of them alone at long last.

She hasn’t let go of his hand even once.

“Ames,” he says, as soon as he’s closed the door. 

Victory is zipping around his blood stream, making its way into every single cell, tracing a path along every nerve.He doesn’t even pause before pushing Amy up against the door, liking the feeling of her crushed against him, spreading his hands out over the oh-so-fucking-pleasing roundness of her ass.

He wants to kiss her, but he’s laughing, at her, at himself, at the thought that in only a month or two, he’s going to be opening up his very own office in the Capitol.

Amy’s grinning at him too, in delighted complicity, her hands snaking around his neck.“You’re going to be walking funny for like a week,” she says, her face somehow more vivid, more expressive than he’s ever seen it.She’s fucking overjoyed.

“You remember I said Selina being President was better than sex?”He presses one hot kiss to the skin of her neck, feeling her shiver in response.“You want to test that theory?”

“Dan,” she says, looking at him almost fondly.“You know we can’t.”

He slides one hand under her skirt, teasing at the soft skin of her lower thigh with his thumb.

Amy’s practically vibrating with desire, grabbing onto his tie like she wants to pull him closer with it, but what she says is, “Unless you want to be a one-term Jonah Ryan congressman you need to get out there and make some promises to your donors, show them some of that victory love."

“Speaking of victory love -”

There’s a knock on the door.

“Ms Brookheimer.”

“Fuck off,” he says, and then looks at Amy.“Is that  Marjorie Palmiotti?”

“I have to go to Selina’s, remember?She’s driving me.”

“Tell her to wait ten minutes.”  
  
“Dan, we can’t just -”

“Ms Brookheimer,” Marjorie says, “I’m afraid this can’t wait.”

Dan nearly thumps his head against the door in frustration, and then Amy surprises him, reaching up to peck him quickly on the lips.(Of course, he’s not about to let an opportunity like that pass him by, and they make out for twenty-five glorious seconds, her tongue hot and eager against his).

It’s only Marjorie knocking on the door again that stops them.They open the door, Amy blushing, Dan not, to see Selina’s not yet daughter-in-law eyeing them (maybe because Amy was still standing in his arms, leaning back against his front).

“I”m sorry,” Marjorie says, “I know the consummation of your relationship is long overdue, but I thought you would want to know - Senator O’Brien has died.”

Amy realises the full implications of this a second or two sooner than he does, and immediately snaps into action.“Have they announced yet?”

“They’re waiting till midnight,” Marjorie says.

“For the polls to close, right.”Amy turns to look at him.“You need to get to that party - shake the hands that need to be shook and prep for broadcast.”

“You want me to talk up the constitutional ramifications or whatever?”

“No one knows what those are,” Amy says, “We don’t have any precedent to guide us here.But if Selina’s the only remaining candidate for the presidency, I don’t see how the Speaker can keep stonewalling.”

“Right,” he says, “You gotta go.Call me later.”

Amy rolls her eyes at him - because of course - and then she’s gone. 

Dan goes to the victory party, races through all the necessary pleasantries, all the while resisting the urge to look at his phone.Unlike everyone else in the room, he knows that a bomb is about to go off.

They announce O’Brien’s death (a heart attack brought on by a rib-focused diet, followed by a pulmonary embolism) ten minutes after midnight, which kicks off a feverish round of speculation on every major news channel.

This is only intensified when Amy gives a statement from the steps of Catherine Meyer’s brownstone, calling on the Speaker to put an end, at long last, to his unjustifiable campaign of obstruction, to respect the Constitution, and to give the people an elected President at long last.She doesn’t take any questions - but she does turn a delicate peony pink when one of the reporters points out that it’s been a big night for her!

Forty minutes later his phone rings.

“You looked good on tv,” he says, because he can’t help it, he likes that he can make her blush on national television.

“The Speaker’s going to give a statement at eight a.m. tomorrow morning,” she says, “We’ve booked you on CBS This Morning to give an immediate response.”  


“Do we know what he’s going to say?”  


“He hasn’t absolutely confirmed, but…but I think he’s going to hold a ceremonial vote at least.It may not even be necessary, legally speaking, now that O’Brien’s dead - some of the lawyers think it automatically goes to Selina, since the position of President was never actually filled, not in legal terms, but…anyway, an overwhelming vote in the House will add to our legitimacy, so we’ll take it.”

“Meaning you’re going back to the White House.”

“Looks that way, yeah.”

“You know Ames,” he says, a number of extremely pleasant scenarios making their way through his brain.“If you want to take several steps down the ladder -“

“Don’t even,” she says, “If you quote Danny Chung to me, I’m hanging up.”

“You know we’ve gone viral?”

“I - no, I didn’t.”  


“Vogue even rang up about your dress - they want to know the brand for some ‘best fashion moments of the midterms.’I knew people would love it.”

Amy sighs, almost sounding disappointed.“It’s weird here,” she says, “They’re all walking around like someone has died - in a bad way.Even Keith Quinn is acting like someone pissed in his beer.”

“I would have thought Selina would be bouncing off walls, sending out Gary for hookers and blow and extremely handmade humus.”

“Yeah, I know, but…but remember when she was going to leave the Hughes ticket?It’s like that.I don’t get it.”

“What’s she offered you?”

“Principal Deputy Chief of Staff - under Ben, with Kent as Chief Strategist, and Keith Quinn as director of operations.”

“Well Ben’s due another heart attack, so that positions you as the natural successor pretty nicely.”

“Yeah,” Amy says, sounding unconvinced.“She’s bringing Bill in to run the communications office - and they’re going to get rid of Mike asap, but knowing how picky she is… You should see the room they put me in - it’s going to be the nursery for the baby, and it’s fucking terrifying. There are masks everywhere.”

“You could always come back to Westchester,” he says, knowing it’s unlikely (but he has to try). “I  promise to be a lot more welcoming.”

“Thanks for the offer,” she says, “But tomorrow is going to be an utter shitshow and you have to be at the CBS studio in four hours, so there isn’t time.”

“I’m very flattered you think so.”

She laughs then, maybe surprising herself.“Good night, Dan.”

He picks his outfit, reads and rereads the notes Kent and Keith sent him for the CBS appearance, and devises some suitably witty ‘thank you’ tweets (which should have gone out earlier, but with the crisis had been forgotten about), and sleeps for ninety minutes in the car CBS sent to pick him up.

The Speaker gives his statement ten minutes after eight (these things are always delayed), in which he says the House will vote at midday, and he expects them to confirm President Selina Meyer. 

Following the vote, Vice-President Montez makes a statement from the Oval Office desk, saying that, following two years acting for the American people, she is glad the process of selecting a president has been completed, and she will be cooperating fully with President Meyer and her team to ensure a smooth transition. 

Selina is sworn in at four, Amy right by her side as she announces that she will be moving into the White House in two days, eager to begin the hard work and important challenges of governing.

Dan crashes then, falling not so much asleep as into a coma. 

When he wakes up the next morning, Furlong has offered him a role as a junior whip, Amy’s election day dress has sold out in almost every store in the country and China has re-invaded Tibet. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Amy has the flu.

Amy has the flu and it’s infuriating.

It’s also not her fault, something which Selina is entirely unwilling to hear. 

She’d always been religious about getting her flu shot, making sure to get it early every year, knowing she didn’t want to risk being off work for weeks at a time with an avoidable illness.

The first time she’d scheduled it, Montez had given a speech from the steps of the Observatory Circle, condemning the Chinese incursion into Tibet, and calling on the President to intervene. 

Selina had immediately called Amy into a meeting to brainstorm her response. (Why it couldn’t just be “I agree entirely with the Vice-President and will be exploring options with Congress” Amy couldn’t work out).

The second time, Selina had decided to go to New York after Montez had planned a visit to areas that had been damaged by a massive in no way climate-change driven storm, and of course Amy had to go along. Dan, as Congressman-elect for the locality had been there too. It was the first time she’d seen him since election night, and her stomach had been...squirmy the entire time, knowing everyone, including the press corps, including Bill, was watching them. 

They’d been in touch constantly, texting and emailing at all hours, even reviving the late night strategy calls that had always been their ‘thing.’ Selina planned to bring back the Families First Bill once the new Congress was in session, and Dan would be crucial in helping them whip the votes. 

They hadn’t talked about the kiss. 

She thought about it - she thought about it all the time. It was embarrassing and ridiculous and part of Dan’s not even remotely subtle efforts to distinguish himself from every other rookie congressman, she knew all of that. She knew that people were so desperate for political news that wasn’t unsettling they were latching on to any vaguely positive news story, but...

Since Dan, technically, had nothing to do, he was on Instagram and twitter constantly, commenting on the news, talking up Selina’s messages, and tagging her into conversations under the guise of ‘asking for her view.” And every single time he did that, Amy got hit with a barrage of questions about whether they were dating or not.

There’d always been speculation from inside the Beltway - snide comments on blog posts and delicately phrased implications in the legitimate press - but the level of interest now was something else. 

The week before Dan’s swearing in was the worst. Someone had dug up footage of Ben’s testimony before the Congressional Committee, and the more idiotic blogs had been full of speculation about whether they’d kiss after he took the Oath. In the end, Amy hadn’t even been able to go, but when Dan came up to the Oval Office the traditional hand-shake photograph, Selina was not best pleased that the press were more interested in getting photos of him with Amy than with her. 

Amy gritted her teeth through posing, extremely conscious of Dan’s hand, warm on the small of her back, and then had a hasty conversation with him about staffing his office. Much to her irritation, the press had gone with one of those pictures, of the two of them deep in discussion, staring at each other and no one else, Dan grinning at her in the way that always made her smile and want to scold him all at the same time. (Obviously she doesn’t love him, that would be fucking stupid, but sometimes she loves him),

That Dan batted away any questions about their relationship with a smile and a comment that “everyone knows Amy’s very special to me” didn’t help things at all.

Maybe that was why Selina was in such a pissy mood all the time - she’d never liked sharing the spotlight in any way shape or form.

Amy had also missed her third, fourth and fifth flu shot appointments, to be, respectively, Selina’s point staffer at the G20 (at which she seemed to serve the purpose only of being a buffer between Selina and Chairman Lu), an assistant at an emergency fashion consultation (which was chiefly about ways for Selina to upstage Montez), and to give a speech at the NOW conference (because Selina was peeved that they’d invited Candi Caruso to speak - way back when she was Chief of Staff to the Acting President, and not Amy. Which was fine, since Amy had no particular fondness for Candi Caruso - but the flu shot would have been a better use of her time).

She had promised to help Dan sort out his office - he needed the help, since his skills at identifying trustworthy staffers were basically nil.He wrote most of his own speeches, Kerry kept track of his diary and incoming emails, and he had a reasonable number of caseworkers for constituency bullshit, but he needed someone to actually run things.And since he’d never actually run an office himself, not for Hallows or Selina or any of his seven other bosses, he didn’t really know what to look for.

It didn’t help that, since he was everyone’s favourite baby congressman, ambitious staffers were practically falling over themselves to be his chief of staff and communications director. The sheer volume of resumes was overwhelming.

She’d booked an afternoon to do the interviews with him…and then three days before, she’d been hit with the flu.

And it was the _real_ flu.

She’d dragged herself into work one miserable Tuesday morning, and Kent took one look at her and said she had to work from home. 

Which is where she’d been for ten days straight.Apparently Selina hadn’t had a flu shot either (which, what was the point of having her own private military physician if he couldn’t stay on top of a little thing like that?), and so Amy was not to be allowed near her until her immunity kicked in.

Normally she’d complain about being sent home for two weeks, but she was so goddamn exhausted - so wiped out - that even working for three or four hours a day remotely was a challenge.

A week into her self-imposed isolation, Ben had insisted she interview some candidates for her assistant over facetime, so at least there would be someone in the office keeping track of things.Which was where she’d got the idea.

There were limits on how much she could actually do when her brain and bones felt like they were made of cotton wool, but reviewing resumes isn’t that challenging. 

She has Kerry courier her the stack of resumes, and tells Dan to come visit her that weekend, when she’ll have had a chance to go through them. 

It takes a few days, but she’s able to sort the wheat from the blatantly corrupt and careerist chaff - something she’s still thinking about when interviewing her possible assistants. 

Most of them are either already known to her (and incompetent) or horrifically inexperienced, but there is one who gives her pause.

Leigh Patterson.

She can’t understand it. As a staffer Leigh was fine - Kent had apparently thrown her a few freelance gigs afterwards, and had her consult on some of the midterm stuff - but why they would ever want to hire someone who had no reason to trust any of them, and awful lot to be pissed off about, she just doesn’t get.

She thanks Leigh for her time, closes her laptop and promptly falls into a not-quite-sleep on her sofa. 

The next day she tells Kent to hire Colin, formerly a junior staffer in Senator O’Neill’s office, who is smart, focused and a little terrifying, and give him access to her email. 

She receives her first summary document by the end of the day, and wants to weep. Genuine competence is always so surprising.

By the end of the week, she’s better - still very shaky, but better.

At least, so she’d thought.Her video conference with Mike and Bill about how they’ll sell the Families First Bill Version Two to the press was apparently so repulsive that Bill showed up on her door that Friday evening with chicken soup and a bag of groceries.

She doesn’t really want him there, but she’s in no state to argue with him, so she lets him in to gossip with her and rearrange her refrigerator.

It’s not like she hadn’t missed him. Or, well, missed things about him.

She’ll never tell Dan this - not in a million years - but in a way, in a way, working on his congressional campaign had been a relief.

Sure it had meant dragging her ass through endless local politics bullshit, and sure she’d spent at least the first three months of the campaign wanting to rip out Dan’s hamstrings and strangle him with them, and sure, she’d missed out on being a part of the big strategy team, but…

Bill had gone from feeling like a place she could relax, could be herself, could let everything, all the angry, jagged, pissed-off parts of her, hang out, to…to…after the baby that wasn’t, being around him had been like pushing at an infection underneath the skin, sullen and tender and poisonous.

It wasn’t that she’d wanted the baby, not exactly, no - everything was so unstable, it was hardly the time to… and yet, when she discovered the pregnancy, there’d been this part of her that kept…examining the idea in her mind.Maybe they could have something apart from the war zone of current politics, something that was just theirs, something they could help grow together.

And yet.

With Bill spending half the time in Florida, and her being on the road with Selina so much, it wasn’t exactly practical, she knew that.

They’d never really sat down and discussed what a future _could_ look like, that was the other problem. She’d been so focused on getting Selina back to the White House, she’d told herself she didn’t _need_ to have that conversation, not yet.

It was only when she saw the pink plus sign on the test that she actually thought about how it could be.And it hadn’t been…for the first time, the thought of having a someone, a something else, beyond her job, hadn’t seemed nearly so fucking frightening.

Which isn’t to say she’d made a decision, or had her heart set on going through with the pregnancy, but… but Bill’s obvious relief when she told him about the miscarriage, the way he’d said it was for the best, the way he’d been so insultingly glad they weren’t going to have to change anything, that he wasn’t going to be expected to support her or be there for her or even treat her like a partner…

Everything inside her had gone cold.

At first, he’d been pissed off with her - for being angry at him, for not seeing ‘sense’ whatever that meant, for going to work with Dan (which wasn’t even her fault) - and then he’d been…nice, actually.Clearly it had sunk in that she was genuinely upset, because the week Dan was off in Mexico doing she definitely didn’t want to know what, Bill came to Westchester.

She’d been slacking off a little - August is always dead time on a campaign, everyone knew that - but as soon as he arrived she found half a dozen different things that she _had_ to do that week. 

They’d gone for dinner each night and had sex and Bill had mentioned marriage, again, when things were more settled, as something they could maybe talk about, and the whole time…the whole time, all she’d really wanted to ask him was…

If things had turned out differently, they might have been welcoming a baby in three or four weeks time - didn’t he ever think about that?Didn’t he ever wonder what she - or he - might have been like?Did it ever…make him sad?

But every time the questions came into her mind, she’d felt a pang, because she knew the answers.He wasn’t sorry, he didn’t wish things were different, he was glad things had turned out the way they had, grateful the pregnancy had failed and she’d had to go to her OBGYN, alone, and hear the news that things weren’t developing right and nature was going to take its course.

She’d had to walk around for three weeks, still _feeling_ pregnant and knowing nothing would come of it, and Bill had been _glad._ Not only that, he’d had the audacity to be angry with her for having Dan pick her up from the procedure instead of asking him. 

They’d had a fight - all furious whispers and ugly accusations - about it - about the procedure, about her running Dan’s campaign - that was so nasty her hands were shaking afterwards. She’d had to leave to have an initial campaign meeting with Dan - this was just after they’d officially registered his candidacy - where she drank so many margaritas that she damn near passed out on the drive back to the city.

Everything had felt so wrong and so right at the same time - back with Dan, strategising the way they always had, falling into those same familiar rhythms so easily - and everything inside her churned up and sore and raw…she’d used every weapon at her disposal to verbally flay him, because it was the only thing stopping her from crawling into his lap and begging him to take her away somewhere she’d never have to talk to anyone else ever again.

So, she’s not happy that Bill still thinks he can show up at her apartment. 

And she tells him so, and they have another fight, and then they’re both too exhausted to keep it going, so he cooks her dinner and they talk about Selina’s latest hissy fit (she’s going to Mexico on a state visit over the weekend, but Montez is going back to Ohio, and Selina is not happy about it).

She spends most of the Saturday sleeping - it’s always easier when the President is out of the country - aside from when Sophie visits to (in her words) check Amy is still alive.

The next morning, she wakes up, groans at how weak she still feels, and realises that Dan is on his way.

She realises this because he’s tagged her in an instagram post about “bringing a special flu season care package to my best girl, @amybrookheimer.”

Reading the comments is downright terrifying - there’s a lengthy debate about whether Dan is more of a Captain America or an Iron Man, though apparently everyone is agreed that she’s a Pepper Potts.

She has no idea what they’re talking about.

In a way, she’s grateful for the warning - that ten minutes means she has time to brush her teeth and put on a bra and clothes that aren’t actually pyjamas - but she’s not going to let _him_ know that.

When he walks in, the first thing she says is, “Can you please stop using me to clit-tease your demented fan club?”

Dan shrugs and says, “But it works so well. Is it the flu, is that why all of a sudden you’re developing scruples?” He’s carrying what looks like a fruit basket, and thrusts a take-out carton into her hands. “I got you waffles,” he says, “Eat them, you look like shit.”

She gives him the finger, but sits back down on the couch, covering herself with a blanket while Dan clatters around her kitchen, making coffee for both of them and chopping up a mango Bill had bought her.

He sets up a miniature brunch on her coffee table and insists on taking a photo of it, before they get down to business, asking if she’d mind if he referred to her as ‘bae.’ 

She doesn’t bother asking him what he means, just glares and takes the fork he’s holding out to her. He thinks this bullshit is charming.

He reviews the resumes she’s picked out for him while she eats. Much as she expected, he’s not happy with her suggestion that he hire Leigh as his chief of staff. He stares at her like she lost her mind.

“I fired her.”

“And now you’re rescuing her from employment purgatory and demonstrating to her that when someone in politics knifes you in the kidneys, it’s not personal.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure it won’t be personal when she testifies in front of Congress about me either.”

“Are you planning to scapegoat her for something she didn’t do?”

“Come on, Amy,” Dan says, looking at her under his eyelashes. “I never plan shit, you know that.”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s exactly why she’ll be good for you. You need someone who actually can plan, who can remember where you need to be next week and next month and next year, instead of constantly running after something shiny. And it’ll get you in Kent’s good books.”

“And why would I give a shit what Kent thinks of me?”

“Because if you want to be more than one-term congressman, it’s helpful to have one of the party’s top strategists owe you a favour.”She slumps back against the sofa, closing her eyes for a second.“I’m starting to understand why you got fired so many times.”

There’s a pause, and then she feels Dan’s hand on her knee. It startles her, and she opens her eyes again, tilting her head to look at him. 

“Are you all right?”

His hand is so warm.

“I’m just…tired,” she says. “Selina’s been fucking impossible, she’s freaking out because of…because of I don’t know what, and getting into these constant fucking battles with Montez, every goddamn day it’s some new thing. She spends more time trying to identify a policy area that’ll cripple Montez than actually governing, I swear to fuck.”

“I’ve said it before, if you want to step away from the madness -”

“Dan, you’re going to bring Leigh in tomorrow and hire her, so stop - I am too exhausted to argue with you about this, just do it.”

“Really hit you hard, didn’t it?”

“I fee like all the iron in my blood has been replaced with lead, so, yeah.”

“When are you back in work?”

“Selina’s immunity should kick on Tuesday, so Ben says I can come back in Wednesday.”  


“Well,” Dan says, flicking on CNN, “Don’t push too hard, you want to be better for the Correspondent’s Dinner.”

“Has that even been - they haven’t even sent out the invitations yet.”  


“Yeah they have,” he says, glancing at her, “I got mine Thursday - and you have yours, I saw the envelope in your post.”

“Oh,” she says, “I didn’t know, I haven’t been…doing much of that practical, life stuff.”

“What, has your Mom been doing your shopping for you?There’s an awful lot of food in your kitchen.”  


“No, that was…” Her voice trails off when she realises what she’s about to tell him, though it’s not like…it’s not like he has any right to get pissy about it.“Bill dropped off some stuff on Friday.”

“Bill?Erickson?”

“Yeah,” she says, staring fixedly at the screen, “He knew I was sick, and he wanted to talk about some work stuff, and…he was always saying I don’t look after things and -”

“And so you just, what, let him waltz straight back in, no questions asked, after the bullshit way he treated you?”

“You are the _last_ person who gets to complain about that fuckface,” she says, furious and pissed off and close to tears, though she doesn’t know why, “I’m still talking to you, aren’t I? And I spent a hefty chunk of my waking hours this week making sure you have a staff that won’t sell you out at the first chance, so maybe think about getting off my dick for two fucking seconds.”

Dan stares at her for a second, and then his face cracks wide open in an unexpected smile.“You really are sick,” he says, slinging his arm around her shoulders. “Come here.”  


She does, nestling into him in a way she really, really shouldn’t (but her head aches, and her eyes hurt, and feeling his warmth steadies her in a way she can’t name).“I hope I’m still contagious,” she says, and he laughs again.

“Congressional healthcare baby,” he says, “I got jabbed before I even took office.”

She lets her eyes drift closed, breathing him in, enjoying the rhythm of his heartbeat.“Isn’t it a little early for them to be sending out invitations to the Correspondent’s Dinner?”

“Not for the VIPs.”

“Oh fuck,” she says, “I’m going to have to sit at the top table and grin while they roast us, aren’t I?”

“You’ll just have to be a good sport.”

“Oh fuck you,” she says, shifting so her feet are curled under her and she’s closer to him, “You’ll be at the CBS table or some bullshit, miles away from the cameras.”

“Oh,” he says, “I’m sure I’ll find a way to attract some attention.”

She grimaces, though he can’t really see it, and then Dan’s messing around with her remote, and moments later _Face the Nation_ is on. 

She falls asleep on him while Senator Hallows is being interviewed about she can’t remember what, and doesn’t wake up for an hour or two.

When she does, it’s because of Dan poking her.“You’re going to want to see this,” he says.

It’s Montez, standing outside the Ohio State House and announcing her primary campaign.

“Holy shitballs,” she says, “She waited until Selina was out of the country.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, “And Ohio has almost twice as many electoral college votes as Maryland.”

“Yes, _thank_ you,” she says, rolling her eyes, “I’m so glad I have you here to tell me these things.Selina is going to be spitting blood.”

“Good thing you’re not going to be in the West Wing for a couple of days, huh?”

He has a point, not that she wants to admit it.

She didn’t know if it was Andrew dying or the pressure of the Presidency or some other bullshit that she wasn’t privy to, but Selina had become if anything even _more_ erratic since the Midterms.About the only rational political move she was willing to make was getting rid of Mike, and even that was taking so long that…

The next month is _horrible_. There isn’t a single Republican planning to run against Montez, it seems, but fucking _Jonah_ , Tom James, Danny Chung, Owen Pierce (who apparently didn’t get sufficiently beaten to a pulp last time) and finally Kemi Talbot all announce their intention to run.Amy’s not sure which is more infuriating, Jonah’s rampant xenophobic idiocy or Tom James constantly referring to the ‘discredited allegations’ that had been made against him. 

She can’t really blame Selina for being in a condition that can only be described as incandescent - she’s going to be the only President in history who’ll have to run her re-election campaign against both her party _and_ her own VP.

Because she hasn’t hired a campaign manager yet, Amy gets tasked with planning her announcement - and because she wants to steal the mantle of most progressive from Talbot, Selina insists on staging it in Akron, Ohio, site of Sojourner Truth’s famous speech, and won’t listen to any of Amy’s warnings that it’s maybe not such a great idea.

Selina breaks a glass when Bill tells her about the (entirely predictable) backlash.

Inbetween times, Selina insists on fighting a constant war of attrition with Montez, sending her out of the country as much as humanly possible, showing up at every D.C. event she’s invited to, because the President always trumps the VP, making Montez’s office responsible for every unpopular policy announcement she can think of.

Literally the only person who isn’t miserable is Richard, who in his role as VP Liaison, seems to have managed the impossible feat of getting on well with absolutely everyone. Amy would suspect it was some kind of trick, except that after he’d been in the job for two months, Candi Caruso used one of their monthly pretending to have a professional truce brunches to ask that the West Wing stop fucking with them by sending over a guy who knows more about the best way to de-worm a dog and the Rodgers and Hammerstein back catalogue than anything that’s being done out of the Executive Branch.

It’s almost a relief to know it’s not just her.

In all the chaos, the Correspondent’s Dinner kind of…sneaks up on her. The entire week running up to it is a disaster - Gary gets involved in incredibly elaborate and tense negotiations about what Selina and Montez will wear, and of course Amy gets dragged into it, because she’s going to be sitting at the top table - as will Candi - and they can’t clash.

On Monday, Gary tells her to wear green, on Tuesday white, on Wednesday gold, on Thursday navy, and then on the Saturday morning he rings her up in a panic and says he was wrong, he was so wrong, he didn’t know what he was saying, she has to wear pink, dark pink, burgundy even, and if she doesn’t, he’s not going to be held responsible for the consequences.

She’d been working that morning, wading her way through a tonne of briefings ahead of the next climate conference (in Qatar, of all places), and she’s really not in the mood for a last minute dash to Neiman Marcus, but…

Selina’s not in the kind of mood where she feels confident crossing her, so she goes. And then, since she’s there, she gets her hair and make-up done in the store. (She can look at her phone and draft emails if someone else does it).

There’s only one dress in the store that’s the right colour and will fit her without alterations, so, in a way, that makes things easy. It’s a wrap dress in a rich burgundy, that ties at the waist with a sash and has a smattering of beading on the shoulders. Between the colour, the sparkle of the beads, and the deep v of the neckline, she’s not sure Selina will be happy with it, but…there just isn’t time to find something else, so…

She drives home, takes an incredibly quick (and careful) shower, gets dressed and then takes an uber to the hotel, talking to some idiot at State about the conference preparations (mostly that he is _not_ to promise the Australian government that they’ll bring in an immediate ban on single-use plastic across all American industries).

She’s actually relieved when she walks in and sees Dan - he’s probably the first person she’s seen all day who isn’t insufferable - not that they get long to talk.The entire room is full of people jostling for a view, desperate to get their hands on the one person who can boost them half a step up the ladder or into the more reputable blogs. But she sees him for long enough to learn that the first vote on Families First will be scheduled in the coming week. 

It’s the best news she’s had in weeks, and she beams at him, she can’t help herself. (The official photographer gets a snap of this moment, because of course he does).

Then she has to go take her seat at the top table, and gird her loins for whatever roasting is to come.

The comedian is a skinny white girl with frizzy hair and a Valley Girl accent. She does a lengthy ‘bit’ comparing Selina and Montez to two girls fighting over who gets to be Prom Queen while the roof is falling in, the entire class has failed their SATS and a disaffected teenage boy is shooting up half the classrooms. Oh, and China are throwing Tibetans into concentration camps.(This doesn’t really fit with the joke, but the comedian seems exercised about it, so whatever).

“Now,” she says, smiling at Selina like it’s a conversation between girlfriends. “I thought that I would not do that thing everyone hates where I bitch and I moan and I blame politicians for everything when let’s face it, the voters haven’t exactly been helping, now have they Madam President?”(Thank fuck, Selina doesn’t nod in agreement).“I thought that I would propose a project you and the Vice-President can work on together that absolutely everyone can agree on.”

Which is the cue for the audio-visual portion evening.

In which Amy plays a starring role.

It starts with footage of her and Dan, standing behind Selina at an event (maybe Furlong’s campaign launch in Ohio way back when? She’s not sure), and proceeds to depict the entire of history of their relationship, captured in c-span footage and instagram posts and paparazzi pictures and news bulletins.

Which would be fine, except it’s accompanied by some old musical song, Amy doesn’t know what it’s called, but the lyrics make the message pretty damn clear:

_Don't praise my charm too much_

_Don't look so vain with me_

_Don't stand in the rain with me_

_People will say we're in love_

Amy wants to bang her head on the table or disappear from the room entirely, but that’s not an option.She has to sit at that top table, and smile, and laugh as though she’s in on the joke.

It doesn’t help that the video closes with a shot of her and Dan kissing on election night and a repetition of the “People will say we’re in love” line. (She’d done her best to avoid watching that footage, but seeing it here, blown up on the screen, the two of them kissing underneath a balloon drop, both of them radiant (with the thrill of victory, obviously, that's their _thing_ )…it’s suddenly not hard to see why people just assumed they were a done deal).

The video comes to a close, and the comedian gives them all a big smile and says, “Now, I know those two have been saying they’re ‘just good friends,’ but Madam President, I’m not ashamed to say this - I kind of ship it. And I don’t think I’m the only one. So, I think you and the Veep should get on that?And once that’s fixed, maybe climate change or health care or which one of you gets to give a speech to the UN or wear the colours of the flag in your dress won’t seem like such an impossible problem.”

Amy doesn’t look at Selina - she knows better than to make eye contact at a time like this - but she does get a glimpse of Dan in the crowd, smiling and having his back slapped by the dickheads on his table. 

She’s very glad she doesn’t know where Bill is.

She takes out her phone and scrolls through her alerts, hoping desperately that _something_ urgent will have come through, something that needs her attention.But it’s late on a Saturday evening in DC, and everyone who might cause her problems is already in the room, so she’s not that lucky.

Thankfully, she has a glass of wine and a waiter who is impressively dedicated to keeping it full.

Selina’s speech goes down reasonably well - Amy can tell she’s pissed the fuck off, but suspects no one else can. And she gets to mock the press for their tendency to treat Tom James’ history of sexual assault as a personal quirk equivalent to her need for the occasional back facial.

As soon as the speeches are over, Amy makes her way to the bar, dragging Mike with her.He thinks that she just wants to get drunk, so comes willingly, and it’s only when she pins him against the bar rail that he realises she’s pissed.

“What’s the matter, Amer? There’s a dessert bar, you know.”

“ _Mike!”_

_“_ What? People actually laughed at Selina’s jokes, it’s a good night.”

Kerry, Dan’s Sue, appears at her elbow.“A lot of people are watching,” she says, “I just thought I should mention it.”

“Thanks Kerry,” Amy says, “By the way, if Congressman Jaeger tries to talk to you tonight, you have my permission to knee him in the balls. In the meantime, Mike, why didn’t you warn me?”

“Warn you, Amy, they don’t tell me what the comedian is going to say.”

“You told me the best way the handle all the rumours was to ignore them!And look what that got me!I swear this, this is why Selina’s going to fire you.”

“Fire me?” 

“Wait,” Kerry says, “You and the Congressman _aren’t_ dating?”

She’s so fucking young, for half a second Amy wants to give her four hundred dollars and detailed instructions to take her car and drive until the gas runs out and she’s five states away from D.C.

“Does he make you call him that?And, no, we’re not dating, we’re just -”

“Why not?” Kerry sounds annoyed, “You certainly _acted_ like people who were dating.”

“I’ve been telling her this for years,” Mike says, apparently recovered from his shock.

“No, no, you haven’t.And Dan’s just - look Kerry, in time you’ll come to realise, he’s basically an octopus in a human suit.You know, smart, and tends to fuck things up for other people when he’s bored, because he needs constant stimulation and doesn’t really have feelings that are recognisable to most of us humans.”

“I recognised them,” Kerry says, and Amy wants to growl at her.What right has she to be so sure of herself, when she’s barely even a person yet?“You want to get drunk?”

It’s an open bar, so Amy almost loses track of how much the two of them drink (there may have been shots).It’s enough that Kerry manages to coax her and Mike up on to the dance floor for Taylor Swift’s _Shake It Off_ , which is apparently Kerry’s favourite song _ever_.  She dances with them for five whole songs, which is more dancing than she’s done since at least, oh, Mike’s wedding. 

She spots Selina preparing to leave, and steps away to check-in with her. She and Gary are in a ‘go home and watch Mamma Mia and eat some ice cream’ mood, so she doesn’t waste time prolonging the conversation.

It’s kind of a relief to see Selina go to be honest - though, of course, she’d waited for Montez to leave first, ensuring she got to do one extra round of schmoozing with the network heads.

It’s exhausting, which might be why Amy ducks back to the bar to get a glass of water (hoping it might help her avoid a hangover).

She’s walking back to her seat, to grab her bag, and maybe think about getting out, going home, when she has the…misfortune (or not), of crossing paths with Dan.

Now that their ‘love story’ has been broadcast to the entire fucking room, she feels shy with him in a brand new way, and it doesn’t help that he’s ‘chatting’ with some Vanity Fair reporter who’s all eyelashes and barrel-roll curls.

“Ames,” he says, “I’ve been looking for you all night.” She resists the urge to glare at him and raises an eyebrow.“You look good - better - not having the flu agrees with you.”

“Yeah,” she says, “Who knew?”

(She does wonder if anyone who’s spoken to him for a longer than a minute buys this ‘aw shucks’ bullshit, but she has to admit, he playacts at being nervous around a woman he likes better than she would have expected.)

“Would you mind,” he says to the reporter, “They’re about to play our song.Call my office about that profile, and…we’ll set it up.September maybe.”

He takes Amy’s hand then and pulls her through the crowd, the same way he had on election night, and her stomach clenches in the exact same way too…which is intolerable.

“We don’t have ‘a song’.” she says, stopping and dropping his hand, determined to dig her heels in on this if nothing else.

“Yeah, but you’re going to dance with me anyway.”

“And you know this how?”

Dan gives her a look that is astoundingly cocky.“The same way I know that in half an hour, when I tell you I’ve got a bottle of champagne in my place and you should come drink it with me, you’re going to come.”

“Oh fuck you.”

He holds his hand out to her again.“That’s the idea sweetheart.”

For a second she feels…almost breathless, overwhelmed that they’re having this conversation in this place, surrounded by these people, but then…he wriggles his eyebrows at her, and something unclenches inside, and…

She grabs his hand.“Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The event is winding down, and maybe that’s why there’s like a…pool of silence that surrounds them as they make their way to the dance-floor. 

There’d been a weirdly bouncy song playing, one she remembers from campaign rallies and that stupid 500 Days of Summer Film, all about dreams coming true, and that was what she’d expected they’d dance to. 

Except…she sees Dan wave at the D.J, and moments later the song changes, and it’s fucking _Adele._

Even Amy knows who Adele is.

In a way, it’s easier, because frankly, she doesn’t really know how to dance with another person, and slow-dancing only requires swaying in one place. 

It just feels weird to be doing it with Dan, in front of hundreds of people, while Adele croons about how she’s going to make them feel her love.

Maybe he knows that she’s feeling unsettled, because he squeezes her hip until she looks at him.“So,” he says, “Vanity Fair want to do a profile of me.”

“That’s a really big platform for you to fuck up on.”

Dan sighs, and pulls her closer, so she’s pressed right up against his chest. (It feels so good).“But I’ll look really good in the pictures, right?”

“Why do I have a feeling you’ve got someone filming this so it will go viral?”

“I didn’t need to,” he says, unbearably smug, “People are doing it anyway.”He leans down so his mouth almost brushes against her ear.“Try enjoying the moment, Ames.”

And it does - it does feel good.And easy, so fucking easy to just go with it, to lose herself in the feeling of him against her, his arms around her waist, his eyes on hers.

When the song ends, she immediately goes to check in with Ben and Kent, to be certain that there’s nothing (beyond the midday conference call) she needs to do the next day.(Bill looks thunderous, which she decides not to notice).

She reclaims her purse, has a snippy conversation with Candi Caruso at the coat-check, and then makes her way, slowly, to the exit.

Dan catches up with her just before she goes through the revolving doors.Between his coat and scarf and tux, he looks more dashing than she’s usually comfortable noticing, so she tries to keep things curt.

“Kerry have a crisis to tell you about?”

“No,” he says, with an odd little twinkle.“She’s off to drown her sorrows. But she made sure to remind me I’ve got that speech to write first so, you’re right, she’s a keeper.”

“If you could admit that more often, our relationship would be a lot more stable.”

“Yeah?” 

He’s giving her that look again, his eyes hooded and darker somehow than they usually are, and her breath catches in her throat.

“Dan, I -”

He shushes her, stepping closer, his hand ghosting over her cheek. “Say Ames,” he says, “I’ve got champagne at home. Want to come help me drink it?”

“Yeah.”

She breathes it out almost before she’s processed what he means, and she’d feel embarrassed but… but the grin on Dan’s face makes that impossible.(It’s not a smirk, it’s not anything like his usual obnoxious expressions.He looks happy).

Once they’re in the cab, it’s strange how normal everything seems. Dan has little bits of gossip to pass on, gleaned from various people he spoke to that night, and she fills him in on the saga of her dress, and once she’s started talking, it’s easy to keep going, to just tell him every thought she’s had since the last time they saw each other, and then it turns out they’ve arrived at his place.

She kicks her shoes off as soon as they get in, and follows him into the kitchen, being careful not to trip over her skirt.When he turns around with a champagne bottle in his hand, she laughs.

“I figured you’d made it up.”

“Well,” he says, “We never actually got to celebrate the election, so…”

“When you put it that way, guess I can’t say no.”

She’s leaning over the kitchen island, watching him open the bottle, enjoying the twist of muscles in his wrists and trying not to giggle when the cork finally pops.

He pours them two very full glasses and holds one out to her.She takes it, and lifts it to her lips at the same time he does with his, and they drink, looking at each other. She can’t tell if it’s the sustained eye contact or the quiet of his apartment after a night of so much noise and bustle or the champagne, but she feels giddy.

She can’t stop smiling.

Dan breaks first, setting his glass down, and putting a fork in the top of the champagne bottle.

“That’s enough of that,” he says, and steps closer to her.

She grins a little, looking up at him over her own glass (an actual champagne saucer, of all things), enjoying the chance to tease him, and says, “Whatever you say, Congressman.”

Dan’s mouth is on hers half a heartbeat later.

It feels so right she can barely stand it, his hands crushing her to him, his stubble scratching her face, his teeth nipping at her lower lip…

She loses track for a second, and her glass, trapped between them, tilts, spilling wine down his front.

“Sorry,” she says, extricating her arm from his hold, placing the glass somewhere behind her.

“I don’t give a shit,” Dan says, and then he kisses her again, his tongue invading her mouth, and she moans, wanting more, wanting him, right now, wanting to pull him in so close that she can’t even tell the difference any more.

He runs his hands all over her, up and down her spine, over her hips, along her sides, cupping her ass, seeking out every soft curve she has.

He kisses down her neck, and the way his skin grazes hers makes her shiver in the best way.

It’s too much almost, and maybe that’s why, maybe that’s why, when he reaches for the tie of her gown, the sash that holds it all together, she freezes.

Dan being Dan, he knows something’s up, and he stops, leaning his head against hers, the two of them breathing almost in unison.

“So considerate of you to dress up as a present for me” he finally says, his hands lingering on the sides of her waist.“I always did like tearing the wrapping off.”  


She places one finger on his chest, pushing him back just a little, just enough that she can think, takes a deep breath, and then she knows what to do.

“You first.”

His lip curls in a way that’s all too familiar - his eternal expression that means ‘challenge accepted’ - and he steps back from her, so she can see him properly.

“All right,” he says, and slowly - very slowly - takes his jacket off, taking the time to fold it properly and set it down on the kitchen island.

Then it’s his cufflinks, and his watch, and then, finally, his silly little bow tie.

He keeps his eyes on her the whole time, so she feels locked in place, knowing that a flush is rising in her face, powerless to stop it.

When he starts to undo the top button of his shirt, it shakes her out of her transfixed state - something about the obvious flourish with which he does it, the way he’s clearly peacocking for her benefit, setting her completely at ease.

“Asshole,” she says, stepping closer so she can take her turn at unbuttoning him, “Nothing but a vapid useless show-off.”

But she kisses him right after, so she’s fairly sure her words don’t bite. Dan only chuckles, his clever fingers reaching for the fastenings of her dress again.

And then they’re both laughing, and kissing each other, and her dress and his shirt end up on the kitchen floor, and moments later he gets his hands under her thighs and _lifts._

She laughs, at the jolt maybe, or the cheeky way he squeezes her ass, or the sheer strangeness of looking _down_ at him.

Or maybe it's just because she's happy.

Before he can say anything - before he can be himself and ruin it - she kisses him, gripping his hair so she can angle his head properly and plunder his mouth with her own.

He tries to keep walking (to the bedroom, she assumes), but eventually pulls away from her, saying, "Unless you want me to drop you, you're going to have to stop that."

"Well that depends what you're dropping me on."

"Amy Brookheimer," he says, smiling widely, like just looking at her pleases him. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"That's suspiciously nice." She pulls on his hair, again, because she can. "Now hurry up."

"Yes ma'am."

She rolls her eyes, but not too hard, because he's finally picking up the pace, and barely a minute later he throws her on his bed, so eager to climb on himself he almost slips.

Everything happens at the exact right pace.

They make out, long, leisurely and warm, Dan grinding his hips into hers, Amy sliding her hands all over him, enjoying the feeling of all that warm, smooth skin under her fingers.

When he pulls away from her, it's only so he can remove her underwear, still dotting her neck and shoulders with kisses as he pretends not to struggle with unfastening her bra. 

He swears when he finally gets it off, and Amy giggles into her hand, unable to stop herself, pulling him closer at the same time, so she can feel him stretched out against her, arching herbody into the sheer bliss of feeling his skin on her skin.

He kisses back, biting her lower lip before saying, "You are not distracting me."

"Distracting you from what?"  


Dan slides down her body then, clever fingers dragging her panties off as he goes, and the grin he gives her is absolutely wicked.

She's tilting her hips towards him already, yearning for it, longing to know how that obnoxious mouth of his will feel between her thighs.

"So what," she says, "Are you nothing but a tease or - oooh."  


It's rough and gentle all at the same time, and he doesn't fuck around, thank goodness, doesn't mess with her, just uses his tongue and his fingers and his lips to touch her in all the most maddening ways possible.

There's a half second or two where she swears she forgets which direction up is.

And then she's pulling at him, raking at his shoulders, dragging him up and getting her hands on his pants button, because she can't wait, doesn't want to wait, she wants...

She strips him down, pushing his remaining clothes off with her knees and feet, and that's when she realises something ludicrous.

"I'm not fucking you when you still have your socks on."

She has her hand on his cock when she says it, stroking, wanting him to want it as much as she does, wanting to make him lose what's left of his mind, and maybe it works, because it takes him whole seconds to understand what she's saying.

"Are you serious?"

She smiles then, impish, teasing him in a way she never expected to pull off."As a presidential veto."

Dan rolls off her so fast he might give himself whiplash, sitting up so he can drag the offending socks off. Perhaps irritated by her laughing, when he's finished he pokes her in the stomach and growls, "Happy now?"

In response, she clambers on top of him, pushing him back against the pillows, and biting her lip when she feels the him, hot and hard, pressing into her. 

He runs one hand along her side, up her neck to cup her jaw, and maybe he's going to kiss her again, maybe that's it...

So she pins his hands back against the mattress, pressing all her weight into them, so he's fixed to the bed, and then grinds slowly, so slowly, against him.

"So we're clear," she says, "I'm going to be on top. I like looking down on you."

"Fine by me," Dan says, and then he does...something, she's not sure what, with his hands, pulling her down on top of him, close enough that with every breath her breasts brush against his chest. 

"I thought you'd like the view?"

"Oh I do," he says, and snakes his arms out from her hold, looping them loosely around her waist, rest on them, overlapping, on the back of her hips. "But I like the _feel_ of you even more."

She laughs then (she's never, ever laughed so much during sex, not with anyone), and then there's a moment or two of fumbling and he is finally, fucking finally, sliding into her, slow at first, but faster, and then faster, fucking up into her, pushing her higher and higher, every part of her so sensitive that she can feel him, the thick, solid drag of him inside her fucking irresistible, the pressure inside her building and building...and then he slows down, so slow it's too much to bear, so slow and steady and exquisite she cries out, squeezing down on him as hard she can, so he can't stop, not even if he wanted to, he can't stop now...

It takes long minutes for her to come back to herself.

Dan was as out of it as she was, stroking the skin of her back with delicate fingers, and breathing slow, like he's recovering from an adventure. Eventually he nudges her into the crook of his arm, and she looks up at him.

He looks well and truly fucked. His hair is wildly askew, his eyes are so wide it's like he's on drugs, and he's got lipstick smeared all over his mouth and jaw.

He's never been so handsome to her in his entire life.

She yawns.It's like she's only just realised that she's tired.

Dan watches her pull the pins out of her hair - one by one - with a dismayed expression.When she raises an eyebrow at him, he kisses her forehead and says, "I should have asked you to take it down before."

"Is that a thing?"

He slides his hand into her hair, tangling his fingers in the fine strands at the back of her neck and pulling her closer."Something like that."

They kiss - gently - all lips, and then he says, "You thirsty?"

"Huh?"  


"We still have half the champagne left."

"That does sound pretty good."

"Well go get it then."

" _Dan_."

He chuckles, and she smiles at it, even though he's being an _ass_."If I get it can we do it again?"

"That all depends on if you're nice to me."

His lip quirks for a second, and then he says, "I was going to make an 'I can be nice men' joke, but you've never seen Star Wars, have you?"

"Wine," she says, pointing with her foot."Now."

"So demanding."

She uses the few minutes he's out of the room to collect herself, tidy her hair (more than dishevelled after having spent the whole evening pinned up), pull the sheets up over her chest, and, as much as such a thing is possible, wipe the smeared mascara from under her eyes.

She's so, so tired, but the mere idea of sleep seems impossible.

When Dan comes back, for half a second she doesn't know what to say, what to do - maybe she should get up and leave?Maybe he won't want her to stay for the night? - and then he holds her glass out to her.

"To the White House Correspondent's Dinner," he says.

She rolls her eyes, naturally, but clinks glasses with him all the same. 

He leans back against the headboard, and beckons her closer, tugging at the bedsheet as he does so. She settles in, closer to him, not really wanting to be distant, not in her heart of hearts.

"Maybe we should send that comedian whoever the fuck she is a thank you card?"

"Because we don't have to deal with enough gossip already?"

"The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about."

"Easy for you to say, you don't work for Selina. I'm probably going to have to ask Ben to stop her from banishing me to, like, Guam, or something, for stealing her thunder."

"Ames, we were the only thing connected to her Presidency anyone had anything good to say about.She's not getting rid of that - she's not that fucking stupid."

"Au cuntraire, believe me. You've not been around her enough."

"I'm going to tell her you called her that."

_“_ You are such a shit.”

Dan sips his wine and shrugs. “Your point is?”

He seems more interested in steepling his fingers up the bare skin of her back than her answer, but she responds to him anyway. “Selina’s tether was never long to begin with, but she is definitely getting to the end of it now.”

Dan’s expression changes, becoming more focused. Attention is being paid. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know - I thought it would...I thought when we got back to the White House it would feel settled, like we could think about things, you know, more than a week in advance, but she...it’s like she can think about whoever pissed her off today, and she can think about her legacy fifty years from now, but anything in the middle it...it might as well not exist.”

“See, you need to be more like Ben,” Dan says, “and just not give a shit.”

“It’s my - Dan, it’s my career. If she goes down without ever having finished a full term, what the hell happens to me? I mean, this is my life.”

“You’re getting philosophical on me all of a sudden.”

“I’m just - thinking about the future, that’s all.”

“Since when?”

Since I realised I could have been a mother by now, she thinks, but doesn’t say. She’s not sure he’d understand what that means - that her…calendar, her vision of the future had extended, all of a sudden stretching not weeks or months but decades into the future.

“Maybe I don’t want to be at the mercy of Selina’s narcissism the rest of my life, that’s all.”

“Well,” he says, tugging at the sheet she’d been covering herself with. “There’s always room for you casa Egan.”

“That’s not a solution to anything.” 

“It wasn’t really meant to be,” he says, bending, oh so carefully, to run the tip of his tongue over her breast, latching on and sucking for just long enough.

“You know I can’t work for you, right?”

She yanks his head up so he can tell she’s serious, making him look in her in the eye as she speaks.

But it only encourages him - he pushes her back into the bed, slotting himself between her legs. “I think you’ll find that I’ll be _very_ firm, but also fair,” he says, thrusting into her, just a little.

“Maybe I could be a lobbyist again,” she says, arching her hips, pulling him closer. “Use my connections in Congress.”

“Oh,” Dan says, with a grin that’s damn near obscene, “So you’d show up in my office to _persuade_ me to use my vote wisely?”

“Something like -”

He kisses her again, sucking her tongue into his mouth, and Amy gives in, gives up, gives him everything he asks for.

They take their time, touching and stroking and tasting each other, and when she’s peaked, and peaked again, Amy’s too exhausted even to roll away from him, into some distant, safe hollow of the bed. 

* * *

When she wakes the next morning, she wakes up alone.

It’s mid-morning, she thinks - from the quality of the light, if nothing else - and she awakens slowly, surfacing gradually into consciousness. 

Amazingly, she doesn’t have a headache or feel woozy or anything, though she still buries her face in a pillow when she first wakes up.

The pillow smells of Dan, which feels far more…homey than it should.

Eventually, she gets herself out of bed and realises, rather ruefully, that her dress, her fucking ball gown, is presumably still on the floor in Dan’s kitchen. 

So, she puts on the dark green robe he has hanging on the back of his door, and goes looking for him. (There’s a small part of her that’s tempted to find her clothes and do a runner but..she has to face him some time.And, she’s fully aware that any uber driver will realise how she spent her night inside of thirty seconds - which in this town…there’s no way to be sure it won’t get out. Half of them are underpaid congressional aides).

She finds him sitting at his dining table, in boxers and a t-shirt, drinking a cup of coffee and scrolling through news alerts on his phone. She feels ridiculous - Dan’s robe is so big she practically trips over it, and the shoulders are so wide the seams are at her elbows - and from the way he smiles when he sees her, she can tell he thinks the same.

“Morning,” he says, and raises an eyebrow.

But she’s not the way she was a year or two before. Maybe it’s the passage of time, or maybe Bill had taught her a thing or two…but she’s not as easily embarrassed any more.

So, she walks over, takes his face in her hands, and slots her mouth over his, planting herself firmly in his lap. His mouth tastes of coffee, and he hasn’t shaved yet, so his face is bristly and rough, and she can feel him getting hard underneath her.She wriggles in his lap, and claws at his t-shirt, pulling it over his head so she can get her hands on him. 

Dan retaliates, nipping at her neck and her ear, and when she makes a wordless sound of _want_ , he lifts her, up, onto the table, scrambling to undo the knot of the robe, all but pulling it off her, so it’s bunched around her waist. 

His hands are all over her, one pulling her up by the neck so he can reach her mouth, the other diving between her legs, teasing her entrance so she’s wet and slick and ready for him.

When he pushes inside her, she clenches at his shoulders, inarticulate demands that he go faster, harder, falling out of her mouth whether she wants them to or not.

It’s fast, and frantic - the way it hadn’t been the night before - and when they finish, Dan lets all his weight fall on her for a minute or two, his breathing loud and rough in her ear, seeming to match the furious rate of her heartbeat.

When she finally feels as though she’s returned to reality, she strokes his hair and says one word, “Morning."

Dan laughs.“I thought I’d tired you out,” he says.

He sits back down in his chair, and holds a hand out to pull her with him, so she’s sitting on the table in front of him, her feet in his lap.

“Always underestimating me,” she says, pulling the robe back on.She picks up his mug and takes a sip. “What time is it?”

“Just after eleven,” Dan says, running one hand over her ankle and calf. “I plugged your phone in.”  


“Thanks.I’ve got a conference call with senior staff at twelve thirty, do you mind if I…if before I -”

“Before you…what?”

“I just…I’m going to take a shower, and maybe eat something, and take the call, before I go home.”

“No rush,” Dan says, “You eat eggs, right?”

She rolls her eyes at him, but agrees that eggs do sound pretty good.She wonders what would happen if she suggested he come shower with her first, but…she needs to clear her head.

She uses some of his over-priced shower gel, and scrubs away the remnants of the previous night’s make-up, and tries not to stare at the mark Dan’s mouth left on her neck and collarbone.(She _should_ want to yell at him for that, should be cursing his name for making it so obvious, but…every time she looks at them she gets a squirmy, pleased feeling in her stomach).

She pulls the robe back on, and rejoins Dan for food. They eat breakfast, and watch the highlights of the Sunday morning shows that have gone viral on twitter, and then she kicks him out of his own kitchen so she can conference with Ben, Kent and Keith.

When she comes out, twenty-five minutes later, he’s sitting on his couch, typing away on his laptop. 

“What’s the latest crisis?”

“There’s an oil tanker coming into Houston that’s worrying people, and some dickhead may have burned down a church in Tennessee.”

“May?”

“It could just be that they didn’t get it rewired when they should have, it’s not clear.Anyway, otherwise it’s business as usual.”

“Want to help me with this speech then?”

“Are you going to pay me?”

“Never needed to before.”

She glares at him, and Dan pats the space beside him on the couch, a twist in his mouth that’s clearly laughter.

She settles herself down beside him, saying, “You couldn’t afford me anyway.”

She ends up sitting on the floor, between Dan’s knees, typing up changes as they make them and arguing with him about various details of the speech.

They’re almost finished, chiefly arguing about whether his final line should stay in or not (she thinks it’s ridiculously over the top, Dan thinks they can clip it for social media), and he leans over her shoulder to point at something on the computer screen.

When she turns to look at him, it’s like they both realise how close they are, and the air crackles.

Taking a breath, Amy leans forward and kisses him.

Predictably, they fuck again, Amy still kneeling on the floor, bracing herself against the coffee table. Dan had slid off the sofa to kneel behind her, pulling her back into his lap, and fucking up and into her. He’s inside her and all around her, his chest firm against her back, his arms bracketing hers, his breath mingling with hers.

She feels limp when it’s over, and yet she knows that if he wanted to go again…she would.

It’s like being drunk.

Late in the afternoon, she pulls her dress back on, Dan drives her home to get changed, and then they go out for dinner, grabbing a table at pretentious Chinese restaurant. 

Eating with chopsticks should be the opposite of sexy, but somehow it breaks the ice, making it easier for them to relax and be natural, sharing speculation about whether Marwood is going to endorse Montez or not, and entertaining each other with the latest Jonah anecdotes.(Watching Michelle Yorke try to spin the fact that he married his step sister shouldn’t anywhere near as funny as it is).

Dan’s driving, so when he pulls up outside her apartment building she knows that their whole…interlude might be coming to an end.Dan taps on the steering wheel with his fingers, and gives her a searching look.“See you, I guess.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then she leans up and kisses him, tilting his chin with her hand so she can force his mouth open, and make it a _real_ kiss.

Finally, she pulls away, and, without making eye contact, says, “Or you could come in?”

She gets out of the car immediately, walking up the steps to her building without looking back - she feels like she just pulled the pin on a grenade, and she doesn’t want to see it go off.

She’s still disappointed when he doesn’t follow her, and she wants to kick herself for having given him the chance to fuck with her.

Thirty seconds after she’s closed her door, there’s a knock.

When she opens it, Dan’s leaning in, with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Had to get my overnight bag.”

Amy punches him in the shoulder, but she lets him in.And moments later she pushes him into one of her armchairs, straddling him and pressing herself into him, pulling his stupid plaid shirt out of his jeans and unbuttoning his fly.

They both have early starts, and after the day they’ve had, sleeping isn’t a problem.Dan wakes her, not long before her alarm, and they have sex again before getting up. 

She’d sort of thought having him there would delay her - that he’d take too much time in the shower, or get in her way while she was picking out her clothes for the day - but…maybe it’s all the time they’ve spent on the campaign trail together, but they’re like a well-oiled machine.

It gets awkward when they leave, because of course, they have to separate, she going to the White House, Dan to the Capitol.

He kisses her, on the side of her mouth, and says, “See you round, Ames,” before leaving.

She goes into work, determined to think of it as a one-okay-two-night-stand, a mistake not to be repeated, and certainly not to be talked or thought about. 

It doesn’t help that apparently people can see _something_ different in her - even Sue thinks she’s ‘glowing.’ 

Still, she sets her mind to her work, and resists the temptation to look at her phone to see if he’s texted, and doesn’t rise to any of the barely passive-aggressive comments Bill seemingly can’t resist making.

She spends most of her week negotiating possible amendments to the Families First Bill with the legislative team - anything to get the fucking thing past - and then…on the Wednesday, she has to go to a meeting with Furlong to talk about how they’ll get it through now that the vote’s been scheduled.

Since Dan is one of his junior whips, a meeting with Furlong also means a meeting with him.

The moment she walks into the room, she can feel his eyes on her, knows he’s remembering everything they did that weekend, and it’s impossible not to blush. 

She’s very, very tempted to text him a stern warning to stop eye-fucking her in front of people she needs to take her seriously, but she knows him, and scolding him - or paying any attention to him whatsoever - only encourages him, so she doesn’t.

When the meeting ends, she gathers her things together, carefully not looking up so she doesn’t have to see him leave.

Which is why she’s surprised when she feels his hand on her elbow.“Ames,” he says carelessly, “Want to get lunch?”

She nods, not quite trusting herself to speak, and lets him escort her, his hand on the small of her back, steering her, not to the cafeteria or a nearby restaurant, like she’d expected, but back to his office on the third floor of the Longworth Building.

He rambles on about the Vanity Fair profile he’s managed to arrange (apparently Annie Leibovitz is going to do the photography).They’re going to interview him in August with a view to publishing in November, and Dan is just…adorably excited about the whole thing, though she’s not going to tell him so.

When they get back to the office, he stops by Kerry’s desk and gives her lunch orders for both of them. His order is, naturally, obnoxiously detailed, and long, and honestly, Amy wouldn’t blame Kerry for having a spirited bitchfest with whichever staffer she runs into on her way.

Dan ushers her in to his office, hanging right over her shoulder.The moment the door is closed, he pulls her back against him, his hands satisfyingly possessive on her hips.

“You’re very quiet,” he says, “Should I be worried?”

She twists to look back at him.“No,” she says, “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

He kisses her then, and getting the taste of him on her tongue again feels so good, she whimpers just a little, trying to turn in his arms so she’s closer.

But Dan has something specific in mind, because he walks them forward, stopping only when he reaches his desk, bending her over as he does so.

She can’t help it, she huffs out a breath of laughter.“Over your desk, are you fucking serious?:

“Why do you think I ran for Congress in the first place?”

She squirms against him - not opposed to the notion, necessarily, but she needs to get something out of it - but Dan just grips her hips harder. 

“You up for it?”

“If you make it worth my while.”

She can feel him smile against her neck, and then he pushes her skirt up over her hips, sliding one finger, then two, against and inside her.

He keeps his fingers there the whole time, rubbing her off even as he fucks into her, so that she cries out, her mewling much too loud for the quiet of a supposedly respectable congressional office.

Of course, since Kerry is on her way back, they have to rearrange themselves immediately afterwards, tidy their clothes and hair, and sit sedately on Dan’s couch. 

From the shrewd glance she gives them, Amy suspects she isn’t fooled.

Still, they do use the time over lunch - she briefs him about the amendments Selina is prepared to support, and the ones she wants him to bury deep in the congressional equivalent of the Mariana Trench, and he updates her on the headcount, who is reliable and who might be peeled off if they’re not careful.

She almost wishes she didn’t have to go back to the West Wing - the atmosphere is still terrible, Selina giving in, more and more, to the terrible, deep-seated rage she felt at…at the world, the American public, everyone who’s ever worked for her, men.

Amy’s used to working in pressurised environments, but even so…

She stands, once she’s finished her salad, and says, “This was nice, but I have to…get back.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, looking up at her from his seat, “Are you going to Doyle’s speech thing on Friday night?”  


She sighs. “Of course I am. Montez made it very public that she was going, so Selina has to go, so I have to go.They’re probably going to get into a mexican stand-off about who goes into the room first.”

“Sounds about right,” Dan says, and reaches a finger out to stroke her knee.“Want to grab a bite after?”

She ducks her head, not wanting him to see her pleased smile.“Yeah,” she says, “Okay.I’d like that.”

“Yeah,” he says, and stands up so he towers over her. “And then there’s the more important question.”

“Which is?”

“Your place or mine?”

She laughs then, and tilts her head up to kiss him properly. 

She’d meant it to be just a peck, nothing too serious, but Dan wraps his arms around her, pulling her in close, and she can’t help it then, she just goes for it.

It’s only when there’s a knock on the door that she pulls back.

“You have a committee meeting,” she says, “And I’ve got to get back.”  


“Now, Amy,” he says, “I know you’re not going to make me go on C-Span with a semi.”

She slips her hand down to cup his dick through his trousers, for just a second, and says, “Like you’d be the first.You can come in now.”

It’s Leigh Patterson, who apparently Dan did hire, and she has a seriously long-suffering expression on her face, but all she says is, “Congressman, the Chairman’s office called to say he’d had some kind of travel complication, so the hearing won’t start for another half hour.”

“Thanks,” Dan says, not even bothering to look back.

The moment Leigh closes the door, they’re kissing again, and Amy doesn’t even bother pretending that she’s going to run off to her next appointment (it’s the Coast Guard, wanting to whine about something, so fuck ‘em).

Dan pushes her down on the sofa, and they fuck, messily, sloppily, her high heels catching on the material of his suit, his lips grazing the skin of her jaw and her neck.

Afterwards, when he lies on top of her for a moment, she says, “I’m fairly sure this isn’t an appropriate use of a congressional office.”

Dan shrugs.“Whatever,” he says, “Now that I’m a whip, I can think of at least ten more shocking scandals off the top of my head.”

“Why anyone thought it was a good idea to give you access to the party’s little black book of scandals I have no idea.”

He leans up on his arm, to get a better look at her maybe, and says, “Just lucky, I guess.”

“Speaking of lucky,” she says, flying high and figuring she might as well, “Selina’s doing her usual ‘book a hotel suite before a speech’ thing on Friday night.”

“Okay,” Dan says, clearly intrigued.

“It’s just - you know she only uses them for, like, half an hour at most.And she said I can get changed there for the event, because I’ve got my Secret Service self-defence training day thing that day, so…em, if you…if you could get there early, we could…like before the, we could…”

“ _Ames_ ,” he says, smiling so widely, she might have to slap him.“Are you suggesting a quickie?”

“Get that look off your face.”

“So we’re clear, I’m all for it, I’m just…impressed.”

“Well, keep a lid on the smuggery, all right, or I’ll change my mind.”

“You got it,” Dan says, though she has her doubts he’ll be able to keep that promise.

Still, she has a smile on her face as she makes her way back to the West Wing.Somehow, surviving the snakepit that Selina’s administration has become feels a little less impossible.

Dan sexts her about once every two hours for the rest of the week.

They spend the weekend in her apartment, and the one following in his, and the one following, since Selina’s in New York to address the UN, they spend the Saturday night and Sunday in Westchester, pretending to give a fuck about his constituency.

It’s the happiest she’s been in she can’t remember how long.


	9. Chapter Nine

In theory, her new assistant, Colin, is competent.

He keeps track of her inbox, has a mental contacts list that rivals Gary’s, and is capable of writing a policy brief that doesn’t read like something written by a toddler hopped up on jelly beans and crystal meth. 

She should be grateful she didn’t get stuck with Richard again.

She should be grateful she has an assistant who knows what a semi-colon is and why it’s best to use them as sparingly as possible.

She should be grateful that he actually remembers her coffee order.

But she isn’t.

Colin is competent, to a point, and dedicated, and apparently very fond of talking up his close connection with her to the junior staffers, which, whatever (it’s not the first time that’s happened, and it won’t be the last). 

It’s just that he really, really does not like when things don’t go to plan.

Why he applied for a job in the Meyer White House, Amy can’t imagine.

But it means he’s constantly throwing a hissy fit over some aspect of the day changing at short notice, or someone sending him an email that doesn’t fit his expectations, or events failing to play out the way he’d imagined. 

If she were a more sympathetic person, Amy might take him aside and suggest he find something else to do, something more predictable, like working in a library or data entry or anything that didn’t provoke his fussy hysterics on a daily basis.As is though, she just glares at him and moves on to what she actually needs to be doing.

Still, when she comes back from a lunch meeting with Kent and Ben, on the day of the last vote on Families First, she knows, she just _knows_ , from his facial expression that Something has gone Awry, and he has Feelings on the matter.

“There’s someone waiting for you in your office,” he says, sounding more wounded than Gary when Selina has slammed a door in his face.

“Yes.”She pauses, waiting for further information, but Colin just sighs.

“We’ve talked about this.”

“Oh for the love of -”

“You’re supposed to let me make the appointments.This one wasn’t in your calendar.”

“And the fact that I’m asking who it is should suggest that I don’t know, ergo…”

“He said you wouldn’t mind.”

“He?”

“The Congressman.”

“Which one?And don’t make me play some endless round of Guess Who, just say who it is.”

“I thought he would have texted you or something,” Colin says, his mouth settling into a sulky curve.“He said it would be fine.”

“All right then,” Amy says, “I’m glad you take such a careful attitude towards the security of information that might be sitting in plain view in my office.”

“Congressmen aren’t national security risks.”

For a moment she considers explaining to him exactly how and why he’s wrong, but she’s far too busy for that nonsense, so she just says, “Go talk to Sue - tell her I need a detailed breakdown of the Europe trip, the precise schedule, the meeting breakdown, the dress codes, all of it.And once you have that, I need you to talk to Gary, find out what colours Selina’s wearing for the most important events, get a list of them, so I can pack things that don’t clash.”

That should keep him busy for the next half hour or so, given how tightly Gary had been guarding Selina’s dress after the not-so accidental colour clash with Montez at the last Medal of Freedom ceremony.(Amy’s not proud of the fact that she’s dedicating mental energy to finding ways to torture her assistant, but she’s not totally ashamed either).

Her bad mood evaporates when she opens the door to her office, and sees that it’s Dan who’s waiting for her, though she does her level best to hide it.

He’s sitting at her desk, scrolling through his phone, and, if the napkins and plastic cutlery are anything to go by, having just finished lunch. 

They’ve been texting all week of course, but she hasn’t seen him since they got breakfast on Monday morning, and she can’t help it, when he looks up at her and grins, she smiles back, helplessly.

“Hi,” she says, “Are you here for the vote?It doesn’t start for another half hour.”  


“Yeah, but I wanted to talk to you first.Where’ve you been?”

“I had a lunch meeting with Ben and Kent.”

“You took the time to have a proper lunch?” 

“Shut up,” she says, feeling flushed, “I was hungry.”

“And I went to all that effort to get one of those stupid salads you like,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You might want to lock the door.”

“It’s the middle of the day,” she says, feeling like she ought to protest. “And we have to be in the Oval Office before the vote starts.”

Dan just smiles at her, a smile so filthy and private it makes the back of her neck feel hot and her toes curl in her shoes.“Ames, seriously, you think I can’t make you come in twenty minutes?”

“That’s not - I have to -”

“Lock the door.”

Arguing with him is pointless, so she turns and does so, saying, “If it’ll stop Colin from bursting in with his latest crisis, it might be worth it.”  


“You’re fucking awful at picking staff, you know that?Leigh and Kerry spend all their time fighting about shit, it’s like I barely exist to them.”

“Better they fight each other than fight with you though.I have a call with some idiot from New Hampshire in five minutes that I have to take so…what did you want to talk to me about?”

She’s leaning back against the door, leaning back against her hands, resisting the urge to walk over and run her hands over his shoulders…which means she has a very good view of the way Dan doesn’t quite look at her as he says, “Come to dinner with me tonight.”

This is new.

“Why?”

“I thought the why was self-evident.Sometimes, Amy, grown-ups sit down together and take their time over a meal, rather than half-eating a sandwich as they walk between the East and West Wings.”

“Oh cram it,” she says, “You didn’t come all the way over here when you could have been schmoozing someone in big pharma for a donation just because you want to grab a bite later.What’s up?”

“That’s a surprise,” Dan says, and then adds, “I’ll find out for sure when we’re there, but I want you with me, so are you coming or not?”

“Where are we going?”

“Bistro Bis,” he says, “And you don’t have to do anything, I just…want to know what you think, afterwards.”

“Can I get dessert?”

She says it mostly to tease him - she knows she’s going - but Dan just shakes his head at her.“Whatever the fuck you want.Are you going to come over here or not?”

He holds his hand out to her, and she goes - of course she goes - trying not to flush as she does so. Naturally, when she takes his hand, Dan pulls her so she’s sitting on his knee (well, on one knee, perched so she’s facing into him). 

Being Dan, he starts groping her almost immediately, one hand disappearing up her skirt so he can caress her upper thigh, the other running over her neck and shoulder.When he leans forward to kiss her, Amy feels obligated to say, “We’re in the White House.”

“And you somehow think that’s _not_ a turn-on?”

“I’m working - as are you, supposedly.”

Dan scoffs, and leans in to kiss her jaw.“You’re flying to Europe forever and a day, and we both know it’s going to be hard for you to do without me for so long.”

“Please,” she says, “Despite what your colossal fucking ego may lead you to believe, I survived perfectly well for years without having sex with you.”

“Yeah,” Dan says lazily, skimming his fingers neatly into her underwear, sliding them back and forth against her in a way that makes her squirm.“But you were thinking about me the whole time.”

“Get the fuck over yourself,” she says, pulling at his hair in retaliation, trying not to moan when he dips one finger inside her, pressing hard so she feels his touch vibrate all the way up through her body.“Besides, it’s not going to be that long. Aren’t you coming to debate prep?”

“We can talk about that later,” Dan says, pulling her closer with the hand that’s on the back of her neck.

And then they make out. 

She’ll never tell him this, but it _is_ kind of a turn-on, hearing the phones ringing and people swearing outside her door and all the ongoing bustle of the West Wing.They’re about to fuck in the middle of the White House, and not a single person knows.

Dan’s even more eager than she is, his hands and mouth all over her, kissing her bruisingly hard, tracing the line of her neck with his teeth and tongue, unbuttoning the top of her dress so he can get his hand into her bra and swirl his thumb over her nipple. 

She wants to bite him.She wants to swallow him whole.She wants to feel him all over.She wants to sit in the Oval Office with Selina and still feel the places inside where he’s touched her.

At some point, impatient with the angle, Dan grunts and lifts her on to the desk, sliding both his hands up and under the tight pencil skirt of her shirt dress, so he can pull her underwear off and down over her high heels.

She pulls him to stand between her legs immediately, dragging him closer by his tie, stretching up to reach his mouth so she can bite at his lower lip.She’s just snaked her hands onto his belt buckle when the phone rings.

“I have to take this,” she says, and fumbles for her phone.

Dan finds it first and answers for her. His voice is so rough when he says “Amy Brookheimer’s phone,” that she shivers.

He notices - of fucking course - and when he passes her the phone, he leans into her ear and damn near growls.

“Get rid of them.”

He’s obviously determined to get off before they have to go to meet Selina, because he keeps touching her, tracing his fingers up and down her thighs, nuzzling at her ear and neck, while she tries to concentrate on listening to the New Hampshire campaign manager who’s having a meltdown about the possibility of Jonah quitting his presidential campaign and joining the primaries for governor.

Finally, frustrated with the call, Dan and her own inability to focus, Amy repositions her phone so she can cradle it between her neck and shoulder, and shoves Dan off her. 

“Listen to me very carefully,” she says, enunciating clearly so the halfwit on the other end of the line can’t possibly misunderstand her. “The only endorsement Selina Meyer will ever give to Jonah Ryan is when he announces his permanent retirement from politics.” 

Dan’s staring at her, breathing hard, his eyes damn near predatory. He doesn’t object when she reaches for his belt again, opening the buckle and unzipping his fly as she speaks.

“That misshapen human crane is not going to be elected President, he’s not going to be elected Governor, he’s not going to be elected dogwasher in chief, and the _actual_ President won’t stoop to some backroom deal with your state’s inbred half-witted power brokers to get rid of him, when he’s managing that perfectly well all on his own.Stop having an anxiety attack about something that is never going to fucking happen and try running a primary campaign that isn’t an embarrassment to the Democratic Party.”

She tosses the phone away then and pulls Dan back into her, trying not to whimper when she can finally feel him pressing against her where her body is craving him the most.

“Did you even hang up?”

“ _Dan_ ,” she says, yanking at his hips, “I really don’t care right now.”

He chuckles, his breath warm against her cheek.

When he pushes inside her, she can’t help it, she closes her eyes, straining to seal the sensation, that first, perfect moment of connection, inside her memory, impossible though it is.

Dan has no such patience, of course.

She loses track of time, forgets everything except the urgent need to finish, grabbing onto Dan, dragging him closer, fisting her hands in his shirt so he can’t get away from her.

He kisses her when she comes, swallowing the sounds she can’t seem to keep herself from making. Or maybe it’s for himself, she’s not sure - he doesn’t last much longer than she does.

Which is fortunate, as the final Senate vote on Families First is starting shortly, and Selina wants everyone in the Oval Office to celebrate. 

Amy checks her phone while Dan does up his pants, and they have a brief tussle over whether or not he’s going to keep her underwear (over her dead body).She takes it back and tells him she’s going to make a detour to the ladies room, and he should go ahead.

He grins, so unspeakably smug she can’t tell if she wants to kiss him or slap him.“Should I leave the lunch I bought you on your assistant’s desk?As a peace offering?”

“No,” she says, “Leave it.I might want it later.”

Dan scoffs.“You’re going to take the time for a mid-afternoon snack?”

“What, sometimes I get hungry.”

“Since when? We worked together for years, literally years, and I never once saw you eat so much as a cookie.”

“Well that was a while ago, Dan,” she says, “To quote you, literally years.”

He shrugs, ushering her out the door with a hand on the small of her back.“Guess I managed to fuck a proper appetite into you at long last.”

“Ha fucking ha,” Amy says, reflexively, not about to let anything he says go unanswered.

And then…it’s like it hits her, just what he’s said.

Dan doesn’t notice her reaction, too busy commenting on how she looks so much better than she did that weekend, clearly his attentions have helped cure that weird stomach flu or whatever the hell it was she had, she looked half-dead all day on Saturday and most of Sunday, so really she should be thanking him for bringing him back to life.

_Fuck_.

He gets a call from Leigh about something, about whatever the fuck, and Amy peels away from him, all but running for the restrooms, where she can sit quietly and panic.

In a kind of a daze, she goes to the toilet, cleans up as best she can, fixes her make-up and hair, and checks her period tracker.

It’s not possible - Dan is sterile. (It’s totally fucking possible).

It’s been six, seven, maybe eight weeks since the Correspondent’s Dinner (she’s in such a fog she can’t quite remember).And she’s been with Dan almost every weekend since then - and usually at least two, sometimes three nights during the week. 

She starts to count up on her fingers, and quickly gives up.

They’ve had a _lot_ of sex.(And really good sex too).

Jesus, it’s almost like they were _trying_.

But Dan, Dan has medical evidence, signed and certified, that it isn’t possible.

So it’s almost certainly a coincidence.

She stares at her reflection in the mirror until she has convinced herself of that fact. 

She will buy herself a pregnancy test that evening, and when it comes back negative, she’ll make an appointment with her gyno, and she and Dan are going to have to have the conversation she’d been so pleased to avoid about…options.(Maybe, if he really is sterile, maybe she won’t have to go on the pill). (She’d much rather not go on the pill).(Though, if he’s sterile, what does it mean for the future, does it rule out…)

Try as she might, something must show in her face when she gets to the Oval Office, because Bill gives her a questioning look (which she avoids). Dan and Selina are too busy doing their mutual-fanclub thing to notice her, Selina clearly exhilarated at the thought that at long last a bill she has championed as President is going to make it to the statute book.

Kent, Ben, Furlong, Keith Quinn and Karen Mothercunting Collins arrive, Gary is preening over Selina’s imminent success, and there’s champagne waiting to be opened.

There’s a fuck-up.

Of _course_ there’s a fuck-up.

The first warning sign comes when Phil Dorsey votes against the bill - though Selina, characteristically, attributes this to his no-longer-incipient senility. 

She doesn’t start to panic until two more Senators are peeled off.

When a fourth democrat votes against them, it becomes clear - there’s a tie.And Montez is going to have to break it.

The room descends into chaos then as they all try to get Candi Caruso - or fucking anyone from the VP’s office - on the phone, to instruct them on what they need to do…

But they’re too late.

Montez shows up, looking immaculate in a white suit, complete with America pin, and votes against the bill. 

Barely a minute later the Veep’s office issues a statement, saying it is not the role of the VP to create a majority in Congress where one does not already exist, and that Montez could not in good conscience allow the bill to pass, especially when it did not even have the full support of the President’s party.At a time when America was so divided, it would be irresponsible to bring in such a significant change to the law without cross-party consensus.

Amy hasn’t ever seen Selina so enraged without Andrew being involved.

Gary makes the mistake of offering her a glass of champagne, and has three champagne flutes flung in his general direction as a direct result.

As always, Ben takes on the task of telling Selina the news she doesn’t want to hear, explaining to her that they cannot reintroduce the Families First Bill in this session, that they’ll have to wait and try again, (all of which she should already know, having been in the Senate herself), and then Keith Quinn makes some…fucking weird comment about the Chinese having invested in the states of the four Senators who defected, and the room goes silent for a good twenty seconds.

Amy doesn’t know why this is such a conversation-stopper, but Selina changes the subject, insisting that they need to come up with a strategy for handling the latest fuck-up, and they need it in forty minutes, maximum.(Forty minutes because Selina is driving out to Maryland for a fundraising session, and she needs to have an answer when the potential donors ask).

She is livid, so angry Amy’s not sure she can be trusted with the Sidney Purcell’s of this world, but whatever other option do they have?The war chest isn’t exactly overflowing.

She can feel a headache starting to build above her left eye, and tells Ben she’s going to grab a coffee before joining the strategy session.(He says that’s fine, he’s getting his mug anyway).

Dan follows her into the crappy little kitchenette thing they use for snacks. 

“So,” he says, looking suspiciously un-deflated by their most recent defeat. “The reservation is for 7.30.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she says, “I might not be able to get away.”

“Whatever,” he says, “It’s a ten minute walk, so just get there when you get there.”

“We have to go to my place after,” she says, opening the refrigerator to search for cream - she doesn’t usually take it, but today…today she just feels the need.

“Fuck that,” Dan says, “We’re going to mine.I’m not spending another night in your hobbit-sized bed if I can help it.”  


She straightens up to glare at him - and argue her point - and that’s when she sees Bill, standing behind Dan, and looking… looking she doesn’t know what.Furious?Unsurprised?Disappointed?

“I see,” he says, not looking at Dan, looking just at her.“You’re needed in there.”

She nods, not trusting herself to speak, and then he’s gone.

She is very, very careful not to look at Dan’s face - she knows she won’t like whatever she sees.

“I have to pack for Europe,” she says, “We’re leaving tomorrow night, I can’t just -”

“Do it in the morning,” he says, “I’ll drop you off - or fuck, Selina’s going to be off titty-fuckingdonors for the next four hours - cancel whatever meeting you’ve got and do it now.”

“I’ll think about it.”

He bends and kisses her quickly on the mouth.“7.30, Bistro Bis,” he says, “And try not to swear.”

When he leaves, she lets out a slow breath, trying to steady herself, to tally up all just how many things have gone wrong, and finds she can’t.

There’s no point in thinking about any of it, so she doesn’t.

The strategy meeting is predictably horrible - Bill shuts down every suggestion she makes, clearly pissed at her about Dan (but it was just _fine_ when he was drooling over volunteers in Florida, she wasn’t supposed to mind that, was she?), Keith Quinn keeps making veiled allusions to China that she can’t make sense of, and Karen… Karen apparently could see both the pros and cons of attending the meeting, because she hovered in the doorway for a full thirty minutes, always about to leave but never actually leaving.

The strategy, such as it is, is to blame Montez and everyone else involved (Kent thinks it’s Danny Chung, but Amy’s sure Tom James has something to do with it) for paralysing the system of government in the service of their narrow political ambitions.

She’s not totally sure it’s the best angle for Selina - who almost brought the Speaker to the Supreme Court once upon a time - to take, but it’s the only one they’ve got, so…

Thank fuck, she’s off spin duty - according to Ben she’s looked like a ghoul all week, and that’s the last comparison they need the press to make (the phrase “zombie presidency” is already being bandied around with worrying frequency).

She meets up with Colin, gets the function list he had somehow charmed out of Sue, and tells him to cancel her final appointment (or, more accurately, change it to a phone conference), so she can go pack.

That’s how she winds up talking through Iowa demographics and comparative media reach with their state coordinator - who would really, really like to know…who’s the campaign manager, and can it please be Amy?(She has no intention of walking into that trap again any time soon - especially as Bill and Keith have been in a passive-aggressive pissing match about it for at least the last three weeks).

She’s in such a rush that she doesn’t have time to change clothes, or do much more than refresh her make-up before the dinner (well, she would have, but she really did want to get that pregnancy test, if only so she could put the worry to bed before flying off to Normandy). 

Fortunately, when she arrives at the restaurant she realises that she really _isn’t_ going to be the focus of attention at the dinner.

They’re dining with Jack Flanagan, the senior Senator for New York, and his lovely wife, Daisy.He’s been in the Senate for roughly the last seven hundred years - having worked his way up from time as a speechwriter on Bobby Kennedy’s campaign - and was considered as much a Washington institution as the Old Stone House.(It helped that he looked approximately the same age).

Dan is on his best behaviour, standing up to pull out Amy’s chair, introducing her with a précis of her resume that makes her sound even more impressive than she already is, lavishing attention on Daisy, managing to charm her despite her malfunctioning hearing aid. 

It’s not exactly hard to figure out what’s going on - and Amy has some _thoughts_ \- but she plays along, smiling on cue, laughing at Dan’s delightful stories of being on the campaign trail together, pretending like he isn’t a complete and irredeemable shit.

Her heart’s not really in it, to tell the truth.She’s worried - anxious - itchy in her seat - wanting to get away from them and everyone and think for a while. 

It’s a very good thing they’re so much more interested in Dan than in her.

Jack Flanagan had been a very sharp player in his day, but that was twenty years or more ago now, and the way he looks at Dan is bafflingly fond, to say the least.

Being old-school D.C., he waits for them to finish their main courses before getting down to business, letting his wife quiz the two of them about how they met and where they went to college and how long they’ve known each other.

Dan spins her a story about their first meeting, way back in Ohio, when he had his first proper political gig and Amy was volunteering with the campaign. It’s mostly true - she had met him then, had even flirted with him over incredibly weak margaritas one night in Columbus - but he makes it sound downright sickening, as though he’d fallen in love at first sight.

Dan has obviously decided to slot her into the role of political wife (or partner) (or girlfriend), and Amy doesn’t know why she’s surprised. He’s been baiting his social media following - who refer to themselves as the Eganmaniacs (it’s so close to the word egomaniac, Amy has to wonder if the person who started it had met him) - with suggestive posts about the two of them for, oh, nine, ten months now.He hadn’t even needed to date her to do it, just the suggestion of a romance was enough to send them into a frenzy.

She’d protested once or twice, but she’d been half-hearted about it - at first because of the possibility that it might help the campaign, and then...well, after the election night kiss, she’d been too unsettled about what they were, and if they were anything, to want to start a fight with him.

But this is something different.

The social side of D.C. is dominated by couples and always has been - Congressmen too busy to manage their social lives delegated to their wives, and Congresswomen, eager to show that they were warm and friendly and not, heaven forfend, ambitious, were eager to invite the Washington hordes into their well-appointed mansions to demonstrate their sociability and femininity via well-chosen canapés and their patriotism through American wine.

Having an acceptable wife is basically essential for any politician who wants to survive the Christmas season.Though acceptable for D.C. and acceptable for flyover country aren’t necessarily the same thing.Thirty years ago politicians married sweet-natured blondes, to pop out children on command and make sure the furniture was never too out of date - but no serious contender for the presidency could marry a woman like that now (well, no serious democrat) (the rules were different on the other side, of course). 

She had to be accomplished in her own right - a good example for the feminist girls of the future (especially in her choice of husband). Danny Chung’s wife was a veterinarian - which meant lots of lovely pictures of her with bunnies and puppies and so on - and since announcing his candidacy Tom James had been (extremely publicly) linked to a junior professor at NYU. 

Dan had brought her to this dinner to send a message - possibly to her, but more likely to Jack, about the kind of person he was, the kind of candidate he’s likely to be.

She’s not sure how to feel about it.

If he were someone else - if she were someone else - she thinks she’d want to hold his hand under the table, use his touch to steady herself.

But he isn’t, so she doesn’t.

Still, she’s weirdly relieved when, moments after the waiter has taken away their plates, her phone rings. 

It’s Selina, because of course it’s Selina, furious and exhausted and wanting to scream at someone. As Amy walks away, she hears Dan joke about how she’s really the important one, far more important than him, getting urgent calls from the President of the United States.

She winds up pacing up and down the street outside the restaurant, trying to soothe Selina’s fit of rage. She’s damn near incandescent, and tired too, Amy can tell, heartsick even, worn down by the simple fact that every time she tries to do something good, something constructive, some asshole will find a way to thwart her.

She doesn’t want Amy to suggest a strategy or come up with a plan, she just wants to complain, at length, about how terrible literally every other person in the world is, and why is it so difficult to find a campaign manager, and why don’t the oh-so-feminist women of the Senate ever stand by her when she needs them too.

Twenty-five minutes into the diatribe, Dan emerges from the restaurant with the Flanagans, who smile at her kindly and depart.

He’s jazzed, she can tell, practically fizzing over with nervous excitement. Whatever Jack proposed has thrilled him down to the ground.

It’s not entirely a surprise when he starts groping her the moment they’re settled into the fancy Uber he’d ordered, despite the fact that Selina is still griping down the phone at her.

He’s in such a good mood that as soon as Selina hangs up he sticks his tongue down her throat - she doesn’t even have a moment to ask what exactly has brought it on (not that she can’t guess).

At least he’d had the driver put the privacy barrier up.

Still, Amy has rules about this kind of thing (what if the driver tweets something?), and so she nips at his jaw when he seems like he might be about to pull her underwear off, a reminder that he has to behave. But his excitement is infectious, and she actually groans with relief when the car stops.

Dan doesn’t bother thanking the driver, just pulls her out of the car as quickly as possible, hanging all over her as they walk up the steps to his apartment.

The moment they’re inside, he has her pinned against the door, lifting her so she can wrap her legs around his waist, shoving her panties aside so he can get quick access.

It’s the fastest, most urgent sex they’ve ever had.

Which isn’t to say...it’s good, and she enjoys it, but she can’t help but suspect that Dan’s head is somewhere else, that he’s caught up in some thought he hasn’t shared with her. 

But then...who is she to judge.It’s not like she’s told him about the pregnancy test burning a hole in her purse.

Afterwards, he rests his head against hers for moment.She’s still pinned to the door, held there by the weight of his body, and she can feel his chest rise and fall against her with each breath. 

It takes a moment, or two, or three, but finally she’s able to pull back enough to look him in the eyes and say, “I thought the whole point of coming here was so we could use your bed?”

Dan rolls his eyes and sets her back on her feet, leaning down to kiss her quickly before saying, “We’ll get to that.Nightcap?”

She shakes her head, and takes a seat on the sofa while he heads into the kitchen.She wants to watch the late night news shows, see what they’re saying about Montez’s vote, and by the time he comes back, she has Hannity on.

Dan has poured himself a whiskey, but he’s also carrying a tub of ice cream and a spoon, which he sets in front of her.When she looks curious - Dan’s too image conscious to just happen to have ice cream in his icebox - he just says, “You didn’t have dessert.”

He flops down on the sofa beside her - sinking so heavily into the cushions it’s clear the sex has had an impact.A moment later, as she flicks between the channels, he lifts her feet into his lap.

She doesn’t comment on this, having gotten used to it - Dan’s not what she would call cuddly, not by any means, but one thing she’s learned is that he likes to have some skin to touch after sex.It’s almost absent, the way his thumb moves over her ankle bone and the skin of her calf - as though he’s soothing himself by petting her.

They don’t talk.Amy checks the news, and scrolls through her messages and various alerts - the Eganmaniacs have spotted that the two of them went for dinner at Bistro Bis, and are speculating wildly, but none of them have clocked the political significance of who they were eating with, which is probably for the best.She can tell when Dan has recovered enough to check his social media accounts, because his resting expression becomes even more smug.If she didn’t like him so much she’d kick him in the stomach.

Eventually, when she’s satisfied that she’s seen all the negative news segments there are to be seen and answered the more apocalyptic messages in her inbox, she pokes him with her toe and says, “I’m going up.”

In a more restrictive country, the grin that spreads over his face at this would be enough to get him arrested, but she lets it pass, because he follows her obediently, trailing after her up the stairs.

He’s obviously recovered some of his energy, because the moment they reach his bedroom, he’s reaching out to unbutton her dress and push it down her shoulders.

“You know, after the door, I’m going to have to get this dry-cleaned,” she says, more for something to break the silence than anything else.

“Why?” Dan asks, his breath tickling the skin of her neck, “Nothing’s ever gone wrong in D.C. because someone hung on to a jizz-stained dress that I can recall.”

She wants - she wants so much - to glare at him, but she disappoints herself by laughing.Giving it up as a lost cause, she reaches out to unbutton his shirt.“Asshole.And you know what, I’m not back from Europe until the end of next week - it would serve you right if someone broke into my apartment and stole it for the National Enquirer or something.”

“Whatever,” Dan says, clearly enjoying the opportunity to undress her fully.“Just stick it in the pile with the rest of my dry-cleaning if you’re worried.”

He pushes her back onto the bed then, crawling up over her body, so long and lean she wants to take a bite out of him.

She keeps waiting for the moment when she’ll get used to the sex - when it won’t make her heart race, won’t feel special - but it hasn’t happened yet. 

When he’s properly on top of her - when they’re face to face - she takes a deep breath and says, “So are we going to talk about it?”

“About what?”  


“About the fact that you were play-acting as a dashing young Congressman with a respectable girlfriend so Flanagan will give you his endorsement for his seat when he retires?”

For a moment Dan looks utterly stunned that she’d figured it out, but then he simply _beams_ at her.“I fucking love your brain,” he says, and almost looks like he means it. “He’s going to announce his retirement in September - they told me while you were busy being Selina’s therapist.”

“And when he announces he’d also like to give you his endorsement for the primary campaign? Why ever could _that_ be?”

Dan leans down to kiss down her jaw and neck, murmuring as he goes, “You mean he saw something of himself in me and couldn’t resist?”  


“Jesus,” she says, shivering against his mouth, “This is how white male privilege replicates itself - he was a speechwriter who treated women like shit, so of course he wants someone just like him to follow him. You realise every other New York Democrat is going to hate your guts even _if_ you get the nomination?You’ve only been in the House for five minutes.”  


“If I get the nomination who gives a shit?” Dan nips at her neck, and then leans up to look at her properly.“And if in case you haven’t noticed, I _am_ a dashing young congressman with a respectable girlfriend.”

She shrinks back into the bed, she can’t help it, and when she speaks, her voice is much, much smaller than she’d like.“What?”

Dan gives a little snort of laughter, pressing himself further into her.“I love how you're the last one to notice - my fan club knows, the press corps knows, your bitter ex knows, but apparently it’s news to you.”

“I never said I’d be your -”

“Oh I know,” he says, “Why do you think I told everyone else first?But if it’s a problem Ames, I can just tie you to the bed and go down on you until you agree.”

There’s this lump in her throat.It’s part that damn pregnancy test, part this fear, this impossible fear that if she says yes, says anything, he’ll on turn around and…she doesn’t know what he’ll do, something awful, the way he always does, part the mere thought of letting him do what he suggests, putting herself at his mercy like that, letting him do whatever he wants with her.

Dan must see some of this in her face - even if he can’t understand any of it, being a natural born sociopath - because he touches her cheek, so, so gently, and says, “You’re going to love it.”His expression is somehow both tender and predatory, all at the same time, as he continues.“But not yet?”

Amy knows her eyes have gone round, her face giving everything away, and she still can’t bring herself to speak, so instead she just nods, the smallest, most infinitesimal, deniable nod she’s ever made.

“I’ll put in an order for a new set of handcuffs tomorrow.”

She’s tempted to slap him, but he kisses her before she does it, and she decides to let the conversation slide for now (even if she still thinks the idea of Dan running for the Senate in 2020 needs a _lot_ more discussion).There are more interesting things they could be doing.

Dan all but passes out mere minutes after they’re finished, and she doesn’t waste time, scooping up her purse and going to the bathroom.If he asks (and he won’t) she’s just peeing after sex - being responsible, avoiding a UTI and all that - and she can’t wait any longer to take the test.

He had reassured her, at some point during the second weekend, that the diagnosis of his infertility was reliable, and she had believed him.It helped that she’d known Catherine had had to contact a second donor, even before she’d known Dan was involved.

So, she’s not worried, and while she waits for the test to work, she scrubs off her make-up, brushes her teeth and uses some of Dan’s dangerously expensive face cream. 

She really, really hadn’t expected to get a positive result.

But the pink plus sign is unmistakeable.

She should be worried she knows that, there should be a tidal wave of panic drowning out every other feeling…

But there isn’t. 

It feels inevitable.

Her hands are incredibly steady as she carefully tears up the packet and instructions, wrapping them in toilet paper and pushing it to the bottom of the trash.She hides the test itself in a pocket of her purse, only realising as she does so what all this means.

She doesn’t want Dan to know.Not yet.

She washes her hands, stares at herself in the mirror for a moment, and then…with nothing else to do and no clear sense of what she even _should_ do, she goes back to bed.

She pulls on one of Dan’s discarded tee-shirts, and lies down on her side (she has a ‘side’ now, it’s ridiculous), trying to will herself to sleep.

Instead she stares up into the darkness, the word pregnant circulating in her mind like it’s the Fox News ticker. Pregnant.Pregnant.Totally fucking impossibly pregnant.

She’s not sure how long this lasts - she’s not sure why she isn’t fleeing into the night - but at some point, Dan rolls over, slinging his arm across her body and nestling into her.

“Your thinking woke me up,” he says, “Go to sleep.”

She turns onto her side, so there’s no chance of him seeing her face, and says, “I’m trying.”

Dan shifts even closer, if that’s possible, so he’s spooning her, and snakes his arm up between her breasts.He chuckles when he feels the tee-shirt she has on.

“I know why you like these,” he says, somehow sounding smug even when he’s three quarters asleep.“It’s because they smell of me.”

“Sure it is,” she says, and then pulls his arm even tighter around her.She wants him close, so she’s thinking of him, not how fucked up her life has just become.

Dan tucks his face into the soft skin between her neck and shoulder and murmurs, “Go to sleep,” one more time.

Somehow, having him so close, feeling his warmth, the pressure of his breath, his overwhelming warmth…it works.

She sleeps.

* * *

When she wakes the next morning, Dan is still wrapped round her, awake already and running his fingers over her skin.He wants sex, naturally, and she wants to give it to him.It staves off reality for just a little longer.

Afterwards, when she’s lying on his chest, panting and sweaty, she asks the first question she can think of.“Are you coming to debate prep?” Dan makes a questioning noise, and she lifts her head to clarify.“I was thinking you could be our Danny Chung.You’d get to piss Selina off and pretend to help her all at the same time.”

Dan strokes her hair, wrapping one long strip of hair around his finger.“I think my time might be better spent in New York.”

“Prepping for your Senate run already?”She bites her lip.“I’m really not sure if that’s the best move for you.”

“Sometimes you have to take a gamble,” Dan says, and gets up to go to the bathroom.

Left behind, trying to enjoy the afterglow and avoid the wet patch, Amy can’t decide if what she needs is to get away from him so she can think clearly, or stay in the bubble of his bed for the next year or two so she won’t have to make any decisions.

What she does is have a shower. 

Dan is so immersed in getting ready for the day that he doesn’t really notice the fog she’s in - and then… well, then something happens to distract him.

He’s driving her back to her place - so she can pick up a change of clothes (instead of going into work wearing her underwear, one of his tee-shirts and a long jacket), and pick up her case - and as he walks her out to the car, he swears, loudly.

He’s found a notification on his phone, and not a good one.

Some Lakers player - a meathead with the ability to throw a ball and the common sense of a mollusc - has sent out an instagram blast announcing that his relationship with Brie Ramachandran-Schulhoff has permanently broken down, mostly due to the revelation that the baby she’d miscarried late last year might not even have been his, but might have been the demonic spawn of the one, the only, Daniel Clifford Egan.

The Eganmaniacs are having a field day, and they’re not the only ones.

Almost before Dan has finished telling her what happens, Leigh blasts up his phone, updating him on just how many journalists have been in touch with questions, and asking what she should do.

Dan tells her to stonewall them for now, and then turns to Amy as soon as he’s hung up.

“What the fuck do I do?”

Her lips feel stiff.“I’m not going to bother asking you if it’s true.”She’d known he was fucking someone that summer, she just…hadn’t wanted to ask him about it.So long as it wasn’t someone on the campaign staff, she’d figured she might as well count her blessings.“Is it still going on?”

Dan looks at her sideways.“She’s all the way up in New York.”

“Right. So because of that you would never -”

“I’ve been getting my dick wet somewhere else, as you well know.”

God, she’s going to be sick.

“And the baby?”

“Somehow I don’t think you _want_ this much detail, Ames, but there’s no fucking way it was mine.And even if it was possible, I’m sterile, remember?You think there’s even the slimmest chance I’d have fucked you that many times without a condom if I thought I could get you pregnant?”

They’re stopped at a red light, and for a moment she’s tempted, _seriously_ tempted, to just get out and walk away. She takes a deep breath.

“Of course not.”

“So what do I do?”

She shrugs - suddenly lacking the will to help him with this problem.“You’re the one who made your personal life such a massive part of your political image - you figure it out.”

“Amy, come on, how am I supposed to -”

He’s so whiny she wants to slap him.“I warned you that it could be a problem.Find a way to make it not one.Spin it into some sob story.”

“What like, we were comforting each other cause she was going to leave him and I was lonely or whatever?”

“I really don’t care - whatever you think will work.”

Dan is silent for the next few minutes, hunched over the steering wheel and scheming no doubt, but he casts sly little glances her way from time to time.He is so utterly transparent when he thinks he’s being slick, it’s infuriating.

When he parks in front of her building, he grabs her wrist before she can get out of the car.“Before you run off in a pissy little huff,” he says, “I haven’t seen Brie properly since I took office.”

“I know, she’s in New York.”

He leans back in his seat, clearly delighted with himself.“It’s adorable that you’re jealous,” he says.“Is there something you want to say to me?”

She wants to tell him to drop dead.She wants to climb into his lap and ride him so hard he understands that he is _hers_ and no one else’s.She wants to sob into his shoulder.

Instead she leans over and kisses him, trying to seem firm and confident and sure of herself.

Then she goes into her apartment, closes the door, and makes a call to her OBGYN to see if they have an appointment free that morning. (They don’t, of course, and she has to book one in for the day she gets back from Europe instead).

By the time she’s changed into her dress for the day, grabbed her case and all the relevant bits and pieces for the Europe trip, Dan has issued a carefully calculated statement via his twitter account.It expresses sympathy for Brie’s dope fiancé, gives a sympathetic explanation for their affair (which Amy highly doubts was emotionally significant enough to deserve the word), and gives a personal assurance that it simply wasn’t possible for Dan to be the father of any child Brie had conceived. 

She’s glad that he at least had the sense to avoid stating his supposed infertility directly (which could cause problems later), but Dan’s explanation seems downright incredible.Apparently, they were both lonely, Brie because she was an entire continent away from her partner and the relationship was breaking up anyway (she claimed at least), and Dan because, due to extremely important ethical considerations which he would never set aside if it meant an orgasm, it simply wasn’t possible for him to pursue the person he actually wanted to be with.

On a normal day she’d call him and scream down the phone at length about the presumption of embroiling her in his sordid little scandal…but today she just doesn’t have the energy.

She finds herself going through the motions - briefing Selina, sitting in meetings, yelling at people over conference calls, all while the word pregnant plays on repeat in her head.

The Europe trip is a monster - eight days, including a day and a half in London, two full days of D-Day anniversary ceremonies, and a day each for Paris, Berlin, Rome, Warsaw and Istanbul.They are going to so many official events - including a state dinner in London, and a couple dozen formal receptions - in so many different climates, that Amy’s suitcase is literally half her size.

Naturally, because so many world leaders will be at the commemoration ceremonies, they’re all planning to use it as an opportunity to network and negotiate (and gossip, most likely).On the D-Day anniversary alone, Selina has seven different eight minute meetings.(Or at least, she had the last time Amy looked at the schedule - she wouldn’t put it past State to have snuck another two or three in there, hoping no one would notice).

She manages to float through the first two days relatively easily, navigating London and the British Prime Minister’s office with a reasonable amount of calm.It helps that, for once, Selina gets to seem Presidential - that, and the press are so distracted laughing at the scandal of Jonah attempting to buddy up with Tom James, and being dumped by Michelle Yorke, his campaign manager, as a result, that they don’t notice much else. 

Gary, naturally, seems on the cusp of a meltdown.As, incidentally, does Mike, who seems to be spending an awful lot more time in the press section of the plane, a development that makes Amy nervous.

But then they get to France, and her first bout of morning sickness hits her like the fist of angry god. She’d thought she had a handle on it, but as she stands behind Selina on the beach, she can feel it surging up.She tries, oh she tries, to hold it back, very aware that she’s on camera, but the nausea that hits her is so strong she just can’t hold it back any more.

She has to force her away through the crowd, knocking dignitaries and ambassadors and who knows who else out of the way, until she’s found a place out of shot where she can put her head down and throw up. 

It’s not quiet, and it’s not pretty and there isn’t anyone to hold her hair back.

But after a moment or two, she does feel warm hands on her back, supporting her as best they’re able, and a clipped accent saying, “Miss Brookheimer - Miss Brookheimer - are you all right? Can I get you some water?Or a doctor?”

It’s Minna Häkkinen, of all people.

She’d gotten some reasonably important job in the EU, Amy can’t remember exactly what - Commissioner for securing the border against our Russian allies (totally allies) or something like that - which is probably why she’s attending a commemoration for an event Finland played no part in. 

When she can finally hold her head up, she sees Minna, Mike and quite possibly the worst person in the entire world that she could see at this moment. 

Leon West.

And he has that obnoxious look on his face that never bodes well.“So,” he says, “Is this the Meyer administration respecting veterans?”

“Come on Leon,” Mike says, “You know how much we honour servicemen and women.”  


“I know you’ve allowed the Tanz family to get involved in running VA hospitals, in return for them pulling their funding from Jonah Ryan’s campaign - making a mockery of the sacrifice of tens of thousands - jesus!”

Amy hadn’t been able to help it - she’d thrown up again, this time spattering his shoes. 

Leon opened his mouth, shut it, and then said, “I know exactly the kind of piece I’m going to write, Mike, about just how badly this administration treats veterans, and how much you take advantage of them politically -”

“Excuse me,” Minna says, “You’re not going to imply that Miss Brookheimer here feeling unwell is part of politics, are you?”

“Madam Prime Minister,” Leon says, his tone so oily Amy’s surprised everyone in the vicinity doesn’t suffer an outbreak of acne, “You don’t understand what the Meyer team are like - they’re not capable of respecting decency even if they wanted to.”  


“In my country,” Minna says, drawing herself and looking every inch the elder European stateswoman, “We would consider it indecent to use a woman’s ill-health to make a political point.You don’t even know what is the matter with her - she could have food poisoning, she could be going through chemotherapy, she could be pregnant -”

Amy’s face must give something away, because Mike gasps and says, “Congratulations Amer!”

She shakes her head at him fiercely, though it’s a lost cause, Leon has already figured it out.

“A pregnancy inside the White House senior team?Tell me,” he says, clearly taking an obscene pleasure in asking the question, “Is it the Congressman or the White House Director of Communications?”  


All three of them are staring at her, and Amy swallows hard.She really, _really_ doesn’t want her pregnancy entering the D.C. gossip circuit, especially before she’s spoken to Dan about it, or even had it confirmed by a doctor. 

Selina will throw a fit and quite possibly the entire Resolute desk if she finds out that way.

“Look,” she says, and the words fail her.She has no idea how to issue an appeal to Leon West that has even the vaguest chance of working.

“Are you worried about a miscarriage?” Minna says.“When I met Selina in New York last year, she said you were in a hospital for treatment.”

Selina had probably ranted about it at considerable length, given how furious she had been (to the point of almost docking her salary) at Amy having to make time for a medical appointment.

“That’s right,” she says, making her voice sound as quavery as possible.“I really, really don’t want anyone to know until we’re past the… you know, this is the third time, and I just couldn’t stand it if -”

Minna wraps her arm around Amy’s shoulders.“Of course,” she says, “You can rely on all of us torespect your privacy.No decent journalist would expose a pregnant woman in that way, not in Europe at least.”

There’s a long moment, and then Leon clears his throat.“You’re right,” he says, looking startled that he has been tricked into a moment of decency.“You can trust me Amy, no one will hear anything from me until you’re ready for it.”  


She’s almost as surprised as he is, but she just manages to croak out, “Thank you, Leon.”

Mike intervenes then, taking Leon aside to ask about possible career opportunities at the Washington Post (he’s really not handling the rumours of his imminent firing well). 

Meanwhile, Minna starts whispering to Amy about traditional Finnish pregnancy foods, and mutters something about sending her a baby box when the time comes, and not to worry about the miscarriages, plenty of women have had them and go on to have perfectly healthy babies and she hopes Amy has a supportive partner, because the hormones of pregnancy can increase your sex drive by up to fifty percent, they’ve done studies, Minna can send her the links, and thank fucking God the ceremony is over by then, and Gary demands Amy’s attention on Selina’s behalf.

The rest of the trip passes reasonably uneventfully - aside from Mike losing his diary and the ensuing drama that he never quite has the time to fill her in on.She avoids Leon as much as humanly possible, afraid of him cornering her in some shadowy area of Air Force One.

She only has two days in D.C., before debate prep, which gives her a good excuse for not seeing Dan.Interest in his ‘affair’ with Brie hadn’t died down quite as quickly as he’d hoped - mostly because Brie had done an interview with People magazine, one in which she had shed one single, artful, almost cosmetic tear, talking about how _hard_ it had been, slowly separating from a man who was abusive (in a vague, unspecified way that might be true, or might be spin), and involved with another who was blatantly in love with someone else.She talks a lot about learning to respect herself through this difficult experience, and how excited she is about her upcoming move to CNN - and poses for pictures looking careless and young and coincidentally showing off a tastefully sexy amount of cleavage.

Amy didn’t mean to read it, but she was stuck in her OBGYN’s waiting room with nothing to do, and the magazine was right there. 

Her hands are shaking when she walks into the appointment, and her doctor’s faux-motherly tone doesn’t help at all. 

She makes Amy pee into a cup, draws blood and forces her to grit her teeth through a number of other tests - but the result, when it comes in, is decisive.She is pregnant, roughly six weeks along, and everything looks good.(Everything had looked good before, Amy thinks, but doesn’t say).

She gives Amy a prescription for pre-natal vitamins and a sheaf of follow-up appointments, as well as stern advice to eat well and avoid stress.If anything her facial expression gets even more disapproving when Amy laughs out loud. 

Since Amy has previously had a miscarriage (or failure to develop, or whatever the hell you call it), she is booked in for appointments at eight, twelve and sixteen and twenty weeks, one more than most expectant mothers get.

When she leaves the appointment, Amy wanders to the drug store in a daze.She hasn’t actually _decided_ , one hundred percent, that she’s having the baby, and yet…and yet she’s already booking in time off for appointments and buying drugs and thinking about whether she’ll have to move…

For a moment she’s tempted to call Dan and tell him, so he can have a panic attack with her, but… but that would be insane.

She needs to be sure, certain in her own mind about her decision, because Dan being Dan, he’s likely to act out in the most flagrant and obnoxious way humanly possible, and she doesn’t want to be bounced into making a choice she’ll later regret because he has the maturity of a seven year old.

Debate prep goes horribly - Selina is furious with at the mere concept that of having to participate, insulted that the electorate expect her to stand on the same stage as Jonah and Pierce and Kemi Talbot. 

By the time they get back to D.C., Dan’s in a constituency week and has gone back to New York, no doubt schmoozing as many donors as humanly possible in pursuit of the upcoming Senate nomination.(It’s the same week as her eight week appointment, at which she’s reassured that everything, still, looks fine).

They talk on the phone - five times when she’s in debate prep, because he’s helping with answers, twice while he’s in New York and wants to talk strategy ahead of meetings.He says she’s being weird, and she doesn’t know what to say in response that won’t raise his suspicions further. 

Fortunately, he laughs it off, saying he’ll fuck her back to normal the next time he sees her.(Under other circumstances she would mock him relentlessly for his boundless faith in the power of his dick to solve problems, but she doesn’t trust herself to make a joke without giving her feelings away).

They spend the week before the debate in Iowa, campaigning and doing the usual photo opps in all the small towns that have turned embarrassing primary events into a cottage industry.The debate happens, and Selina doesn’t entirely disgrace herself, which is about as much as can be expected.Unfortunately, she gets pulled aside by Mike in the spin room.

He’s so panicked it takes nearly twenty minutes for her to get it straight, but finally she gets something coherent out of him.He’s discovered what happened to his diary.

Leon found it.And while there’s nothing of genuine significance in Mike’s diary - no political strategy, no especially sensitive information - it lists off all of Selina’s meetings for every day of the mid-term campaign, and this is apparently enough to confirm a story Leon was already working on.

A story about Selina having made some kind of deal with the Chinese government - a deal which involved the Chinese hacking the electoral rolls in crucial districts in five different states.Enough districts to change the balance of each state’s caucus, effectively flipping the state so it would support Selina when the House voted again on the Presidency.This was combined with a wider disinformation campaign which was intended to help Selina’s party take back the House - as flipping individual states would do nothing if Speaker Marwood was still in charge of business. 

This was all in return for Selina allowing China to re-invade Tibet and commit whatever atrocities they felt like.

What’s worse, Leon apparently has a senior White House official who’s willing to confirm that all of this took place. 

They take it straight to Selina, who convenes all the senior staff in the presidential suite of the crappy Des Moines hotel they’re all staying in for an emergency conference. The mood is horrendous. 

Leon’s story will be on the front page of the next day’s paper, and it’s going live at 6am.Less than three minutes into the conversation Amy realises that there’s a very good chance all the allegations - or at least enough of them - are true, and as a result everyone’s scrambling for cover.

Twenty minutes in, Selina kicks everyone out of the room except Amy.

“Listen Ame,” she says, pacing up and down the room, taking sips from a large glass of whiskey.“You’re the only one I _know_ didn’t leak this.”

“Because you marooned me on Dan’s congressional campaign, and I couldn’t have confirmed the story even if I wanted to?”

“Exactly,” Selina says, either not noticing or ignoring her tone.“You’re the only one that isn’t tainted.”  


For a long moment, Amy stares at her boss.They’ve worked together for more than a decade - she faked a miscarriage for Selina, she sabotaged Dan for Selina, she dragged herself all over the country when Selina was in the political wilderness.   


Her loyalty has never once wavered.

She’d wanted to work for the first woman to be elected to the Presidency.She’d wanted to be a _part_ of the first woman being elected President.

And Selina has sabotaged the election.Selina has made it so the _first_ woman President is going to be tainted for the rest of time as a cheat, as illegitimate, as not having earned the office in the same way every other occupant (who wasn’t Nixon) had.

“Ma’am,” she says, feeling her way to the words. “What is it that you want me to do?”

“Find a way to make this not have happened,” Selina says, “Dig up some dirt on Montez and Talbot, sabotage the opposition, work your fucking magic.”  


“That doesn’t - ma’am, that’s not going to fix this.If this is…if this true, this is impeachment territory.”

“Grow up,” Selina says, “You think I’m the first person to ever stuff a ballot box?Do you want to live in this country with _Montez_ as President, with the fucking Republicans stuffing a bible up your vag, selling AK47s to thirteen year olds and letting every gasbag lobbyist write laws handing control of the army and schools and what the fuck else over to for-profit businesses?”

“I just…I don’t know what you want me to do?”

“Make this go away, Amy, is that so goddamn hard for you to grasp?You're supposed to be the brightest political brain in the country, fucking use it.”

She licks her lips.“I think…I think you need to talk to the White House Counsel’s Office.And you need to find out who the leak is and isolate them.”

“I want their head on a platter yesterday,” Selina says, “I want them repositioned to the bottom of the Potomac River.”

“I can’t help you with that,” Amy says, “I don’t know enough.I wouldn’t even know where to start.You need to figure out who knows enough to have confirmed to Leon - it can’t be that many people - and then…decide who you can trust.Once you know that, you have to start compartmentalising.You don’t want anyone who isn’t already involved to know more than they should - except for your lawyer. It’s a recipe for more leaks otherwise.”  


“Okay,” Selina says.“You need to leave.Call in Bill, Kent, Ben, Mike and Keith.”

“It’s Keith,” Amy says, more certain than she has ever been of anything in her entire life.“Has to be.”  


“Well thank you for your insight, _Amy_ ,” Selina says, “Now get down to the spin room and do your fucking job.”

She can tell Selina is pissed at her - enraged at her for not fixing the problem immediately, for not making Leon’s story disappear somehow - but she’s so disgusted, so sick and furious herself, she almost doesn’t care.

O’Brien died - Selina had ascended to the office by automatic operation of the law - the entire midterms campaign had turned out to be completely unnecessary.

She’d sold her soul and fucked over Tibet for _nothing_.

When she gets back to her hotel room, she calls Dan.He’s eager to tell her exactly what went wrong in the debates - exactly why his carefully crafted answer would have solved all of Selina’s problems if she’d had the sense to use it - and exactly why they need to be more worried about Danny Chung.

Since his political instincts have always been terrible, Amy’s almost minded to dismiss Chung as a threat there and then, and tells him so, but she lets him talk on, bitching about Leigh and Kerry’s perpetual fighting, the trials of having to work under Furlong, the fact that Vanity Fair are dicking him around as to the timing of the profile interview they’ve been talking about, that he’s going on a Co-Del in August and not even a good Co-Del, he’s being sent to Vietnam.

He’s so fussy and whiny it reminds her of their early days in the EEOB in the best way.If she’d only known then…

Finally, he asks her why she’s so quiet, and she summons up the strength to answer.

“There’s…something bad coming tomorrow.”

“How bad?” he asks, instantly alert to any risk to his reputation.“Did Andrew tank the stock market?”

“Worse,” she says.“But you don’t need to worry - it’s not going to touch you.”(New York wasn’t one of the states Leon had identified, so the only connection Dan has to the entire mess is her).

“Are you okay?”

She slides her hand down, pressing it against her belly - there’s no bulge, no hint yet of what’s happening inside her - but it’s reassuring in a brand new way to know that Selina isn’t her entire life.

“I feel like…” she tries to think of something flippant and fails.“I feel like I might not be.”

* * *

Things get worse.

Leon had follow-up stories - detailed breakdowns of exactly what had happened in each individual state - and the entire political class descends into a frenzy.

What’s worse is that Selina is barely talking to Amy now - not filling her in, not trusting her with anything.Which, yes, had been her advice, but…it’s the way she did it, as though Amy had personally offended her by not going along with treason.

The one plus side is that there’s so much chaos she has a range of excellent excuses for avoiding Dan, though she can tell he’s noticed that she’s avoiding him and is pissed off about it.

She’d set her sights on the summer recess, hoping against hope that somehow the press coverage would cool down once Congress had broken up for a few weeks.

She’d cried off the annual White House pre-recess drinks reception - partly because there was simply bound to be blood on the floor by the end, partly to avoid Dan, and mostly so she could go to her twelve week appointment. 

Much to her relief - and almost surprise - everything still looks fine.

Since her appointment had been so late, she decides to grab dinner in a restaurant and check over her emails there, rather than head back to the White House. 

She has seven texts from Dan and five missed calls from Bill. 

She had put off telling him - deciding it was better to wait until she was sure it was safe before saying anything - but now…but now she really has no excuse.

And he’s flying to Vietnam the next morning, so in a way, it could be like ripping a bandaid off - she can tell him and then not have to see him again for two weeks, by which point he might have recovered from the shock.

So she texts him, asking if she can come over that night.

She’s just received his reply when Leon West sits down across the from her.

“I need to talk to you,” he says.

“I can’t comment on any -“

“It’s not about the election hacking,” he says, “It’s about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Leon says, looking at her with something that might be pity, “We’re doing a story about you, and your relationship with the President."  


“I don’t understand.”

“This might help,” he says, and plays an audio file for her.

At first it’s difficult to make out, over the clatter and bustle of the restaurant, but Leon offers her one of his headphones, and then she hears it in all its humiliating glory.

It’s a conversation between Selina and Leon, the night before the story came out - that night in Iowa when she’d left Selina to manage the problem herself - and Selina…Selina is trying to _sell_ her to Leon, trying to convince him to give  up the story by offering her as a kind of _bribe_.

In the worst possible timing, the waiter puts down Amy’s plate just as the audio has stopped playing.

Leon explains that they’re running a story about Selina attempting to prostitute her longest serving and also pregnant aide in order to save her own skin, that they will be using it to illustrate that there are no depths to which Selina won’t sink, and that he’s contacting Amy to offer a right of reply.She has until eleven o’clock tonight to tell him what she wants to say.

And then he gets up and walks away, leaving her there with her mouth hanging open.

Not knowing what else to do, she eats, slowly, haltingly, as though she’s forgotten how to use a knife and fork, watching her phone light up with Bill’s phone calls all the while.

She doesn’t answer until she’s paid her bill and made it back to her car, where she can lock the doors and be certain that absolutely no one will hear her.

When she finally picks up, she has only one question.

“Did you know?”

“Amy, thank fuck,” he says, “No one knew where you were, we thought you’d -“

“Did you know?”

“I’ve been trying to call ever since Mike told us what Leon was planning to write, you just weren’t picking up your -”

“Did you know or didn’t you?Did you know what she was going to _do_ to me? You were part of all of it, was it just fine with you, just another funny story for your collection?”

Bill sighs, as though she’s being unreasonable, and lowers his voice.“I found out this morning - we’ve been trying to shut it down ever since. What are you going to say?”

“You know,” she says, feeling oddly distant, “There was a time when I thought you and I…I thought we had something real.I still thought that, even after you - even after everything that happened.I used to think we could be _partners_.But you just -”

“I’m not the one who tried to sell you for a good headline, all right,” Bill says, sounding pissed, “And maybe if you hadn’t shacked up with that walking advertisement for STD medication, maybe I would have been able to talk to you sooner, but -”

“Tell her I’m not coming in.”

“Not coming in when?”

“Tomorrow - maybe ever.”

“And what are you going to say to Leon?”

“When I figure that out, I’m not telling you.”

She doesn’t bother listening to his response.Instead, she’s methodical - or tries to be.She calls her Mom, and Sophie, and tells both of them to shut down social media now, not to answer their phones in the morning unless they know the caller, not to respond to any requests from journalists.She even tells Sophie that it may be best to warn her manager there’s a story coming, though she doubts her sister will listen to her.

Then she drives to a Target and buys the things she needs for a few days away from home - clean underwear, a toothbrush and hairbrush, face wipes and travel-sized moisturiser, a phone charger, and some essential make-up.

It’s Thursday now, and realistically, the earliest she’ll be able to go back to her apartment after the story breaks is Sunday evening.Maybe she’ll just drive down to some awful Virginia guest house with no wifi for the weekend, avoid all of it.

Shopping complete, she drives to Dan’s house, and then calls Leon from the car. 

“I have no comment,” she says, “But I do have one request.”

“Which is?”  


“Please - don’t mention the pregnancy.Please.Selina doesn’t know yet, and neither does…neither does the father, and…and I lost the last one at fourteen weeks, and I haven’t hit that yet, so - and it’s technically private medical data.”

Leon sighs, but says he’ll see what he can do.

And all that’s left then is to go up and knock on Dan’s door.

He grabs her the moment she’s inside his apartment, and maybe…maybe he really hadn’t slept with anyone else while they were apart, maybe that’s why he’s so insistent on getting her into bed (maybe he’d learned not to fuck someone he shouldn’t from the Brie debacle, stranger things are possible). 

It’s exactly what she needs, in a way, to forget everything, to lose herself in his touch, but…but she can’t summon the same enthusiasm as usual, and he notices.

“I know what you need,” he says, and reaches for his bedside cabinet.

He actually bought the fucking handcuffs.

He brings her wrists up above her head, slotting them into cuffs, but waiting for her nod of assent before closing them.“Anytime you want,” he says, “I’ll let you go, you only have to ask.”

She nods again, not trusting herself to speak - but trusting him, just this once.

He slides down her body, kissing her throat, her collarbone, her belly (he doesn’t notice - not that there’s much to notice), nipping at her breasts and the insides of her thighs.

The closer he gets, the harsher her breathing becomes, and she can tell he hears it, because he teases her, circling the right spot, hovering ever closer but never quite touching it, taunting her until she tilts her hips upwards in sheer frustration.

And even then, even when he finally gets his mouth on her, he’s determined to be a bastard, because right…right before she’s about to come…he pulls away.

When she opens her eyes and looks down at him, she can tell from his expression that he did it on purpose.

“Sorry,” he says, “Was there something you wanted?”

She bites her lip, not about to give him the satisfaction of begging.

But it only makes him smile, and he comes creeping back up her body, taking his time as he does so, clearly loving the fact that she’s staring at him.

When they’re level, he kisses her, biting her lip in his turn, and then says, “Was there something you wanted?”  


“ _Dan_ , you fucking impossible dickwad, can’t you just -“

He slides a finger against her then, pressure, but not quite where she wants it.“You have to say the words, Amy.”

She shakes her head, and he laughs against the skin of her neck.“All right,” he says, “Everything the hard way.”  


And then he’s finger-fucking her, using his fingers and thumb and the heel of his hand even to bring her right back to that peak, making-out with her as he does so, thrusting his tongue into her mouth so she has to respond, though it feels impossible when he’s touching her that way.

And then he stops.Again.

And laughs when he sees her face.

“Sorry,” he says, “Hand cramp.Maybe there’s some other way I could -”

“You absolute fuckface,” she says, panting and frustrated.“Can you not just -”

Dan repositions himself so he’s between her legs, and she can feel the tip of him slide against her, catching against her skin, and it is unfuckingbearable.

“Again,” he says, clearly hugely pleased with himself, “Was there something you wanted?”

She wants to swear at him, wants to hit him even, but the more pissed off she is the better he likes it…so she takes a deep breath and decides to give him just a little bit of the truth.

“I want to touch you.”

He starts a little at her words - but he’s clearly almost as far gone as she is, because without even any taunting, he reaches up and undoes the cuffs, letting them fall down the back of the bed.She reaches for him immediately, but he stops her, pinning her right hand back into the pillow with his. 

“You get one,” he says, and Amy nods, willing to accept that for now.

When he finally slides into her, they both groan - it’s been so long, so depressingly long since they’ve had this (and when she tells him the truth, maybe they’ll never get to have it again) - and it’s…

It’s sloppy, to tell the truth.Amy feels liquid, worn-out, like cooked noodles that flop on the plate, and she’s so far gone that it takes only a few minutes for her orgasm to hit her.

It’s only afterwards, when Dan says, “You can let go now,” that she starts to come back to herself, though it’s only when he adds, “You can let go of my ass now,” that she realises where her hand had been.

She pushes him off her then - if only because he looks so damn smug - and goes to the bathroom to clean up. 

Her plan, such as it was, had been to tell him the truth and then leave, check into a remote hotel somewhere (and be stabbed to death by a Virginia Norman Bates, no doubt), but before she can even begin to execute it, Dan pulls her back into the bed with him.

“So,” he says, stroking the skin of her back. “Are you done pretending to blank me yet?”

“I don’t know.”  


“Have you any idea how disappointed my fanclub has been?”

“Well that’s just encouragement.”

“You know,” he says, “If I didn’t have a five a.m. pick-up for my Vietnam flight - ”

“You’d start a fight, I know,” she says it into his chest.“But you need your beauty sleep.”

“Got to look rested for creepshots.”

She laughs then, though it’s not really funny.“Aren’t you going to kick me out?”

“Nah,” he says, “I like the idea of a pre-flight quickie.I’ll just leave a key so you can lock up when you leave.”

“That’s unusually gentlemanly of you.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, stretching an arm out to turn out the lights, “If you don’t fulfil the conditions I’m kicking you out first thing.”

“Understood,” she says, and pinches his nipple out of spite.

Dan grips her hand to stop her, but all he says is, “Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on with you?”

Amy yawns, and shake her head.“Soon, but not tonight.”

He’s going to find out soon enough.

The morning plays out exactly as Dan had said.He wakes her at half four or so, and they have sex again - so slow and careful and gentle she’d almost say it was romantic - and then he grabs his remaining bits and pieces, updating her on how his office is running and the Vanity Fair profile (which has finally been scheduled), before he leaves, dragging his suitcase of skin products and over-priced suits behind him.

Leon’s story breaks at 6.45 - it must have been held back due to discussions with the lawyers or something. It doesn’t say anything about her pregnancy.

She watches the news networks have collective meltdowns - listens to them replay the audio, over and over again - and finally switches them off when she sees Dan is calling her.

She really, really doesn’t want to talk to him right now…but she needs a favour. 

He is apoplectic.

“Why didn’t you _warn_ me?”

“Why didn’t _I_ warn _you_?” 

God help her, she shouldn’t find his self-absorption so comforting, and yet -

“Yes, _Amy_ ,” he says, clearly affronted.“We might as well be fucking married in the eyes of the political press, you didn’t think I needed to know?”

“It’s not going to touch you."  


“Not going to touch me?I’ve had nine journalists call in the last ten minutes!”

“What do you want me to do about it?I can’t stop them from calling.”

“They expect me to have a statement on all this.Is it fucking true - has she gone that far that she’s re-enacting fucking Mad Men episodes?”  


“Yeah,” she says, hating that she has to say this.“It’s true.Guess you were right - she was always going to fuck me over.Can I stay here?I won’t touch your stuff or whatever, I just…there’s four camera crews parked outside my apartment.”

“Can you - whatever,” Dan says, clearly exasperated with her.“I”m going to get my office to draft a statement, and then we’ll sign it off together, all right.”  


“You don’t have to -”

“Yes, I fucking do, Amy jesus christ, the President of the United States has only tried to sexually assault my extremely goddamn public girlfriend using Leon West’s body - you think I want every red-blooded American male thinking I’d just let something like that happen?”  


“I think men hate you and it’s never going to matter, so you might as well go right ahead and throw me under the bus.”

“Oh spare me the fucking operatic tragedy act,” Dan says, “I have to get on the damn plane, I’ll call you once we’re airborne.”

The last thing she wants to do is strategise about _this_ , try to find the best way to turn Selina’s…betrayal to her advantage, but…but she has her sanctuary, for a while at least.

Maybe that’s why she picks up Ben’s call. 

“Amy,” he says, and he sounds _awful_.

“What do you want?”

“Look, kid, I know you’ve got reasons to be -”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go out today and resign in front of every news camera on the planet because of Selina trying to -”

“She’s had a heart attack. The night of the debate, we think, maybe even that morning. We’re trying to keep it quiet, but she’s going into George Washington for surgery, and…and I thought it was better if you heard it from me.It’s serious.”

She hangs up.She hangs up the phone, turns off the TV and pulls the covers over her head.If she could blow the entire damn city off the face of the planet she would right now.


End file.
